Behind the Mask
by Kimanda
Summary: England has always been difficult to understand. To others and to himself, England has always hid behind his mask. But what happens when that mask is suddenly taken away? England must find himself again.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, even though this is not my first time writing a fanfiction, it is however my first time uploading it on the internet and having others read it. So I'm really nervous of how this will go and I'm just asking you people to be patient with me. I don't really know how to rate this story because this chapter might be unsuitable for young children while the other chapters are okay as far as I can see. For now I'll rate it T but if this is the wrong rating, please tell me so I can change it.

This chapter is probably going to be the only one that will be dark. The others are more lighthearted or at least not so gloomy. I hope you enjoy reading this!

Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters don't belong to me.

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_Prologue_

_England sighed heavily. The rain continued pattering gently against the window as England was watching, without much interest, the weather forecast. _

_The weatherman was saying in a bored tone, "...and for the next few days we will be having more rain than usual with varying temperatures although the temperature may rise tonight..."_

_Picking up the remote control England flicked through a couple other channels and when he found nothing else interesting, he turned the television off. England wondered why he even watched the weather forecast when he knew, no, felt what kind of weather his land was going to have. _

_It was almost ironic how the weather was reflecting England's current mood. Maybe he was influencing it a bit. England wasn't sure. He really didn't care. _

_Maybe he had watched the television to distract himself from his own thoughts. With nothing else to keep him occupied now, he was slowly dragged back to his dark thoughts. _

_**What are you trying to run from? The truth?**__ The voice inside England's head sneered, making England wince at the harshness of the words. Was he running from the truth? What truth?_

_**The truth about you, the former British Empire. The truth of what you have become. The truth of what the other nations think of you. **__England closed his eyes and tried to drown out this voice, shaking his head. _

_**You can't ignore it England. **__The British nation gritted his teeth tensely, still trying to block out the mocking voice. Yet gradually, a part of him started paying attention to the voice._

_**Where is your empire? Lost? Gone? **__England looked out of the window, feeling slightly indignant. The time of empires had come and gone. He wasn't at fault that he no longer had an empire. No other nation was left with an empire._

_**No other nation likes you. No one cares about you. **__England shook his head, trying to deny these words. It wasn't true! It couldn't be true. He wished that it wasn't true. __**But it is. **_

_**Your brothers can't stand you.**_

_**Your ex-colonies despise you. **_

_**Your "allies" and enemies would rather love to see you dead.**_

_England shut his eyes tightly as he felt silent tears trickle down his cheeks. He let out a choked sob. __**You've become so weak! **__The voice hissed venomously and England was filled with self-hatred. It was true that England no longer was the strong nation he had once been. Reduced from an empire to... this? He was a sad excuse for a nation._

_**Indeed. **__The voice agreed viciously and England's shoulders slumped. __**A pathetic excuse indeed. You should be ashamed.**_

_Just then England's mobile phone started ringing from across the room. England stared at it miserably but did not try to stand. He did not feel like talking to anyone. __**Because no one cares about you. You know that very well.**_

_After a while the phone fell silent. Barely a few seconds had passed before it started ringing insistently again. England got tiredly to his feet and walked over to the table to pick up the phone. _

"_Hello?" England replied, noticing how dull and flat his voice sounded._

"_Hey there England, the hero is speaking!" a cheerful voice sounded at the other end of the line._

_England sighed. "Hello America." What did that obnoxious git want this time? Great, now the twit was chattering. England didn't bother to follow, most of the things America said was either simply random or plain stupid._

_**Wonder what America thinks of you. He may have liked you once but now he seems quite happy to be free from you. **__England felt his heart tighten painfully at the memories which he quickly pushed away to the back of his mind. But the voice continued to torment Arthur._

_**What must America think of you? Does he see how weak you are? He's always mocking you and he keeps reminding you who is now the strongest nation of the world. He practically stole that title from you. **__England felt more tears leave his eyes._

_**Yet you still can't hate him.**_

_**You are so pathetically weak. **__The voice jeered and England almost dropped the phone._

"_-and so I said... err... England? Are you listening to me?" America asked curiously._

_England quickly snapped back to attention and briskly answered, "Yes, yes." He wiped the tears away._

"_So anyway, I just wanted to ask you about the world meeting tomorrow..." America trailed off uncertainly._

"_You don't know where it is." England finished for him. He sighed, "You should learn to listen one day America, it's at France's place."_

"_Oh okay, I totally knew that!" America laughed loudly, apparently trying to mask his temporary slip of confidence. "So Iggy," he continued brightly, "I'll see ya tomorrow, right?"_

"_Yes...yes of course I will be at the meeting you git! And stop with this Iggy nonsense!" England attempted half-heartedly to sound cross but his voice sounded more tired than anything else._

"_Hahaha, I'll see ya then England!" America laughed again and hung up before England could respond. England stared at the phone for a while. __**Isn't it surprising how an airhead like that can be the strongest Nation of the world? Even stronger than you?**_

_Before England knew it, he had flung the phone across the room in a blind moment of rage. __**The whole world revolves around America. It's America this, America that. It's all about America.**_

_**What about you? What kind of importance do you still have? None. **__England bent his head and the tears welled up again._

_**Why are you still here?**_

_**The world doesn't need you anymore.**_

_**Why should you be at the world meeting?**_

_**No one will notice you anyway. **_

_**What difference will your presence make?**_

_**They wouldn't even notice if you disappeared for good.**_

_His head reeling as each hateful word dug itself deeper into England's heart, the pain became increasingly harder for Arthur to bear. He walked shakily towards his office table and pulled open a drawer._

_Without hesitating he reached out for a small jar filled with a clear liquid. He stared at it for a while, wondering why in the world he had ever made it._

_**It doesn't matter now. **_

_England observed the liquid for a moment, his mind going blank. But then it all came rushing back, the pain and the vicious voice in his head. __**There is nothing left for you here. Why prolong your stay?**_

_With a slightly shaking hand, Arthur dug deeper into the drawer and pulled out a packet. Inside it was a syringe. He looked at both items in his hands. _

_**You are doing the world a favour. **_

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That's all for now! The next chapter is definately going to be less gloomy than this. ^^


	2. Chapter 2

First of all, I really want to thank everyone who reviewed, faved, added this story to their story alert or just plainly read it! I'm really overwhelmed, I had not expected such a reaction from you all! ^^

Now, I do have two warnings:

1. This is going to be a long story, but it will need time to develop. And I'm probably going to catch some people off-guard with the direction I'm going to lead this story in. It definately isn't going to be angsty all the time. (just so that you wonderful people are warned)

2. Ireland, Northern Ireland, Scotland and Wales are going to appear in this story. I know some people are not fond of OCs, mainly because of them being sometimes paired up with official characters or that many OCs sometimes develop the Mary Sue/Gary Stue syndrome. I am aware of this danger and I have done my utmost to make these OCs as realistic as possible and none are paired up. I can only blame the fact that I'm part Irish and that I love reading about England's interactions with his elder brothers. They will be mostly central in the story until at least the 9th chapter, from then on their importance will decrease as characters such as America, Japan, Canada, France and others take the spotlight.

Also, my Ireland speaks quite some Irish since I'm a fluent speaker. Thats only to disprove the common idea that Irish sounds just like English. That tendecy will also decrease soon. Translations are at the bottom! Enjoy the second chapter! :D

Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters don't belong to me.

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Chapter 2

The alarm clock had been ringing for the last five bloody minutes when Ireland finally rolled out of bed and turned it off with a grumble. For the first few minutes he wondered why he had even set the alarm clock so early in the morning until it occurred to him that today was the World Meeting.

"Grand," Ireland muttered annoyed, "That is just grand!" And so he stood up to get ready for the meeting which would certainly be pointless and yet was necessary for every country to attend.

After about an hour or so, Ireland was just about to leave the house when his mobile phone started ringing. Ireland looked at the caller ID and sighed heavily when it read "Scotland". He answered the phone.

"Dia dhuit Alba, what do you want?"

"Oy, why d'yer think I want something from ya?" Scotland replied in an innocent tone.

"'Cause you're my brother pleidhce." Ireland smirked knowingly and Scotland chuckled from the other side.

"Alright, you got me there Ireland, I do have a small favour to ask. D'you know where the world meeting will be?"

"Yeah, it's at Frainc's place. Why do you ask?" Ireland answered, arching his eyebrow in suspicion.

"Well you can imagine who is really looking forward to going there, right?" Scotland snickered while Ireland rolled his eyes in annoyance. Scotland didn't have to go to the meeting like Ireland so what did he want from Ireland?

"Alba, it's nothing new that Sasana and Frainc don't get along. What are you getting at?" Ireland asked, briefly looking at his watch to check that he was not running late.

"So England probably got all depressed and drank too much again. And so I really doubt he will be awake and ready for the meeting. Which is not very good considering he represents the interests of the whole of the UK, so he shouldn't miss the meeting. Anyway," Scotland paused a bit and then continued, "I was kinda hoping you would go over to his house and see if he is awake and all."

There was a moment of silence.

Ireland took a deep breath and spoke, "Let me get this straight. You want me to go to Sasana's house just to check if he is ready for the meeting?"

"Umm, yes?" Scotland answered uncertainly.

"Do you think I'm Sasana's bloody secretary?" Ireland exclaimed angrily.

"Woah there Ireland calm down! Look, normally I would "love" to do it instead but I'm kind of at Wale's place and I think England might still be cranky from my last visit. Plus, you practically pass England's house when going to France!" Scotland quickly defended, slightly surprised by Ireland's reaction. "Come on, just this once!" Scotland pleaded.

Ireland sighed heavily, "Just this once Alba. I'm not part of the UK so Sasana isn't my problem anymore."

"Thanks Ireland, I owe you one!" Scotland laughed happily and hung up before Ireland could reply.

Staring at the now silent phone, Ireland muttered sarcastically, "Go hiontach, just what I needed to start the day."

* * *

As Ireland walked down the quiet street through the slight drizzle towards England's house, Ireland found himself regretting for having accepted to do Scotland's dirty work. Why couldn't Scotland or Wales do it instead of him?

Ireland did not enjoy being alone with England. With Scotland or Wales he could tease and annoy England as much as he wanted but when he found himself alone with England... things would just become awkward between them. Their relationship in the past had always been strained and at times violent and though things had greatly improved since then, Ireland just felt uncomfortable around England and he knew the feeling was mutual. They just didn't know what to say to each other anymore. Insults, accusations, teasing, apologies... Ireland just didn't know. Neither nation could forget the scars on their bodies that were inflicted by the other.

And now Ireland had to go check whether England was ready for the meeting or not. He decided that he would do it quickly, Ireland had no wish to linger around England. He didn't feel like starting a fight today.

Finally reaching England's house, Ireland walked up to the front door and banged on it loudly. "Hey Sasana, wake up you amadán!" Ireland called at the top of his voice. Nothing stirred.

After waiting a couple of minutes for the grumpy Englishman to appear, when he failed to do so Ireland sighed irritably. Apparently England was still asleep. He couldn't be gone already? Ireland was for a moment hopeful, maybe he won't have to meet England at all. But he quickly pushed that thought from his mind. He had promised Scotland that he would check and whether he liked it or not, Ireland had to be sure that England wasn't at home anymore.

He looked around, trying to remember where England had hidden the keys. Next to the front door stood a flower pot. Ireland moved it slightly and grinned in triumph when he saw the familiar glint of England's keys. Picking up the keys Ireland chuckled, "Sasana was right, old habits do die hard, especially his own."

Speaking of habits, someone would have to confront England about his "slight" drinking problem. That someone certainly wasn't going to be the Irishman, thank you very much. But someone would have to talk about it with England. He had been drinking more lately.

When he was about to open the door, Ireland found that he could not turn the keys. Was there another key on the other side? Ireland frowned and reached for the door handle and pushed it. He was quite surprised when he saw that the door was unlocked.

Pushing the door ajar, Ireland called into the silent hall, "Sasana, cá bhfuil tú?" When he yet again got no response Ireland started to worry. It wasn't like England to leave his door unlocked and with the keys inside. That would normally mean that England didn't leave the house. But where was he then? By now he would have known that Ireland was in his house.

Walking down the hall and stepping into the living room, Ireland let out a sigh of relief. There was England, lying on the ground having obviously passed out from too much drinking again. That was so typically England. Ireland rolled his eyes. Even he and Scotland weren't that bad.

"Sasana, you óinseach, wake up! You'll be bloody late for the meeting!" Ireland snapped and nudged England none too gently with his foot. He got no response.

"Stop the pléidhcíocht, I know you're awake Sasana."Ireland nudged England again. Still no response.

"Oh, so you want to play that game huh?" Ireland crossed his arms in annoyance. He declared, "Sasana, if you don't wake up I will... get America here with three tons of hamburger and you will be forced to eat them all!" England didn't move.

"Alright, I'll throw all your tea out!" No reaction from the Englishman.

"Sasana, I will feed your disgusting scones to the fishes if you don't wake up now!" Ireland finally threatened.

Nothing. Nothing at all. England remained motionless, no fluttering of his eyelids, not even a twitch. That was definitely not normal. Ireland sank to his knees and shook England's shoulder insistently.

"Come on Sasana, wake up already!" Ireland ordered crossly but his voice faltered. He tried again. "Sasana? England?"

Ireland leaned closer to England's face. "England?" He whispered, his voice sounding anxious. That was when he noticed England's breathing. It was quick and shallow.

He felt England's pulse.

It was almost nonexistent.

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Please don't kill me, I know that we all hate cliff-hangers! (me included but I wanted to see if I can use it effectively) Next chapter is going to be longer and other characters will appear it that chapter. I hope you still like my story despite my OCs. :)

Translations:

Dia dhuit = Hello (literally means "God you". Just for those who are interested)

Alba = Scotland

pleidhce = fool, troublemaker

Frainc = France (more correctly "an Fhrainc" but since I removed the "an", I assumed that the "h" would disappear. I really don't like Irish grammer!)

Sasana = England (while most of the world give the Angles credit for naming England, we Irish give credit to the Saxons! Saxons = "Sachsanaigh" which became Sasana)

Go hiontach = Great

amadán = idiot

Sasana, cá bhfuil tú? = England, where are you?

pléidhcíocht = fooling around


	3. Chapter 3

As promised, the next chapter! ^^ I can't promise to update so regularly as now, since school is starting to corner me with all the assignments and projects (its my last year). But I'll try. :3 Anyway, thank you for reviewing, faving, adding to story alert or just reading my story! It really makes me happy to see that people like my story! Ah yes, other characters will appear in this chapter. Among them Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland, and other Hetalia characters that I'm sure people will recognize quickly. ^^

My take on Northern Ireland might be different from other versions. Translations are at the bottom of the page. Enjoy the third chapter! )

Disclaimer: Hetalia and the characters do not belong to me

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Chapter 3

"England?"

Barely containing his panic, Ireland shook England. He then felt England's forehead. It felt quite warm. A fever?

Ireland felt for the pulse again. It was back to normal. He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Had he just imagined it before?

He didn't know but he did not question further. It was clear that England was just sick.

"Breoite, huh? Really Sasana, you got me there." Ireland didn't know if he should feel relieved or annoyed. At least no one else was here to mock him for his hasty reaction.

Well, England had to be brought to his bed. There was no use for him to be on the floor. Why was he on the floor anyway? If England had felt sick he would have immediately gone to bed. Now Ireland also noticed the lack of the usual bottles on the ground after England spent a night drinking. So did England drink at all? Why did he fall asleep here?

Picking up England's limp body, Ireland noted with surprise how light England still felt. Not that Ireland carried England a lot, on the contrary even, but didn't England ever have any bulk on him? He was certainly not the best candidate for a warrior with a wiry body like that.

Carrying England to his bed and tucking him in, Ireland took out his mobile phone and started dialling Scotland's number. England was in no state to attend the meeting and either Scotland or Wales would have to replace him.

After a couple of rings, Scotland finally answered, "Yes?"

"Alba, Breatain Beag, get your lazy asses over here. Sasana is sick." Ireland informed.

"Again?" Scotland exclaimed and a voice nearby quietly asked, "Are you serious?"

"Yes I am, Breatain Beag." Ireland replied and then frowned. "Why did you say "again" Alba?"

"Well, our dear little brother seems to fall sick quite often, don't you think so?" Scotland answered.

Ireland shrugged, "Níl fhios agam, I don't keep up to date with Sasana's health."

"He probably wouldn't be sick so often if he didn't eat his own cooking all the time." Wales joked lightly and both Scotland and Ireland snickered.

"Yeah seriously, where did England pick up such bad taste? Not from me, my cooking is great!" Scotland bragged loudly. An awkward silence followed.

Ireland gave a dry cough and said, "Er well, anyway, you two get over here right now. Understood?"

Before either could complain or object Ireland hung up on them. Seriously, they were part of the UK and yet he found himself having to take the position of the leader here. He glanced at England who still showed no signs of waking up. His expression didn't look very peaceful, it actually seemed pained right now. His breathing still wasn't entirely normal yet.

Whatever England had, it had to be one nasty bug.

* * *

After waiting some time, Ireland heard the front door open. He looked at his watch and frowned. They sure had taken their time. As he walked down the stairs he called out, "What took you two so long...?"

Ireland trailed off as he caught sight of the person he least wanted to see. Standing beside Scotland and Wales was his younger brother, Northern Ireland. When their gazes met both tensed up.

"Tuaisceart Éireann." Ireland said coldly.

"Ireland." Northern Ireland spat back, his expression defiant.

Scotland and Wales exchanged a quick glance and shook their heads. Things hadn't changed much between the two brothers unfortunately.

"Alright, break it up you two!" Scotland warned and stepped between the Ireland brothers who were having a glaring match.

Ireland scowled but stepped away from Northern Ireland, not sparing him another glance. Northern Ireland continued glowering silently at him.

"Since Sasana is sick, which one of you will replace him for the world meeting?" Ireland asked, turning to Wales and Scotland.

"I think I will." Wales replied quickly, giving Scotland no chance to have a say in the matter. Scotland frowned and crossed his arms in irritation, muttering "spoilsport" under his breath.

"Ceart go leor Breatain Beag, let's get going. We're already late for the meeting." Ireland said hurriedly walking towards the door with Wales following.

"See you later Alba!" Ireland called and walked swiftly out. Wales turned around and warned, "Don't destroy anything Scotland, okay? I'll see you later."

Scotland rolled his eyes, "Sure, sure Wales, don't worry. Have fun at the meeting!" There he gave Wales a knowing grin.

Wales shook his head and closed the door behind him. Scotland knew that Wales was not letting him go to the meeting for fear of bringing destruction to the whole place. But Wales couldn't forever keep him out of the meetings.

Giving a slight shrug, Scotland turned to the stairs. "Well, let's see how sick our dear England is." He mused.

Casting a glance behind him, Scotland noticed that Northern Ireland was still rooted to his spot, scowling at the closed front door.

"North...?" Scotland asked curiously.

"The bastard is ignoring me again."

"Huh?" Scotland stared at Northern Ireland who was now clenching his fists.

"That damned Ireland!" Northern Ireland hissed, "Always ignoring me or treating me as if I was inferior to him. I hate him!"

Scotland stared at Northern Ireland silently for a moment and then began to walk up the stairs. He didn't want to get tangled up in this mess so it was better for him not to say anything. This was between Ireland and Northern Ireland.

Northern Ireland turned around and watched Scotland leave him alone. He frowned but said nothing. He went after him up the stairs, still fuming over Ireland. He would show his older brother one day that he was just as good as him. Even if he had to resort to violence.

* * *

"Well, I say that to reduce CO2 emission people have to breathe less often! That would slow the global warming down!"

"Amérique, that must be the most stupid idea you've ever had and you've had many of them."

"How about, like, we give everyone counters and tell them how many times they can breathe each day and then, like, they count how many times they breathe!"

"How does that work when they are asleep aru? They can't count then."

"You cannot possibly be suggesting that this is a valid idea!"

"I agree with Austria-san..."

"Damn it Japan, just say your own opinions!"

"If everyone became one with Russia, all problems would be solved, da? Don't you agree Latvia?

"Waaah, stop looking at me like that!"

"Who?"

"I'm Canada!"

As the quarrels continued in the meeting, Ireland and Wales stood uncertainly in front of the closed doors of the meeting.

"Remind me please Ireland, since I don't come often to these meetings," Wales spoke quietly, "but does this happen frequently?"

"Every single bloody time." Ireland replied tiredly and gripped the door handle. "Well, let's go." He muttered and opened the door.

Although they walked swiftly to their places they were still spotted by the nations.

"Ah, our chère Angleterre and Irlande have finally decided to join!" France exclaimed but blinked in surprise when he saw Wales instead of England sit beside Ireland.

"Hey where's England? And who're you?" America asked blatantly, grinning widely.

Wales frowned but answered quickly, "I'm Cymru and I'm here to replace England who is sick."

Many countries made the "what" expression and Wales grudgingly said, "I'm Wales."

"Ve, England has whales? I didn't know!"

"No Italy, it's the country Wales."

"Angleterre est malade? Again? His cuisine must really be bad."

"Tell me about it. England has no taste!"

"Naturally you, like, totally inherited that from him America."

"Poland, your cooking isn't any better..."

"Ve, let's make some pasta!"

"How about maple syru-"

"I say HAMBURGERS!"

"How in the world are you all hungry already aru? I brought some sweets-"

"WE DON'T WANT IT!"

And so the quarrels at the world meeting started again.

Wales turned to Ireland and asked, "Are they serious?"

Ireland nodded silently but then heard a passing comment targeting his own beer and he yelled angrily, "Hey, who said Heineken was better than Guinness!"

This was going to be a long meeting.

* * *

Scotland frowned slightly as he felt England's forehead. He had seen his brother sick several times and for the first time he found the symptoms confusing. It was obvious that England had a fever, and one that was gradually rising, but otherwise showed no signs of coughing. Now and again England's body trembled. Many symptoms pointed towards the common flu but somehow Scotland doubted that this was the case. He couldn't wake England up and it seemed that he was in pain.

"I think the fever is rising. Could you bring some wet towels?" Scotland asked Northern Ireland who was standing mutely behind him.

"Why should I?" Northern Ireland snapped moodily and was met with a stern gaze from Scotland. Scotland raised a questioning eyebrow to the irritated country who slightly fidgeted.

"Fine!" Northern Ireland barked crossly and stomped out of the room. Scotland could only wonder why North was so moody. Probably was still angry over what happened earlier with Ireland.

While Scotland was still deep in thought, he failed to notice England's expression change back and forth to pained and relaxed. His fists clenched and unclenched several times and his body stiffened slightly. A tremor ran through his body and it relaxed.

One dull green eye opened for a split second before slowly closing again.

* * *

Oh yeah, Northern Ireland has a little nickname (North) but I don't know if I will use it often. And sorry for poking fun at Poland's cooking but last year my class went on a school trip to Poland for a week and I'm really sorry to say, but Eastern European cooking really doesn't sit well with me. Neither did it sit well with my class. A good number of times we weren't sure what we were eating. So I'm not just targeting the Polish or anything. X3

Oh, and the plot thickens... (line so overused that its cliché now) I hope to put the next chapter up soon. Hope you enjoyed it! ;D

Translations:

Irish

Breoite = Sick

Breatain Beag = Wales (literally means "Britain little")

Níl fhios agam = I don't know

Tuaisceart Éireann = Northern Ireland

Ceart go leor = Alright

French

Amérique = That really should speak for itself (America)

chère Angleterre = dear England

Irlande = Ireland

cuisine = would logically speaking mean "kitchen", but in French we also say that to refer to cooking skills.

Welsh

Cymru = Wales (just about the only Welsh word I know. And "Y Ddraig Goch" as well)


	4. Chapter 4

Alright, next chapter is up! ^^ This one is a lot longer than the others so I hope you'll enjoy this one. Now, some of you might be a bit confused by Northern Ireland and I apologize, I really should have explained why he exists as an individual character for me. I have really just three reasons:

1. If I remember correctly, in 1913 there was this big fight between the Catholics and Protestants up in the north of Ireland. Before the outbreak, each side had been importing guns. When it came to the Catholics the British police immediately confiscated the weapons when they would discover them. With the Protestants however the British turned a blind eye to their activities. So when both sides fought naturally the Protestants had a surplus of weapons and won. On that fight an author (whose name I don't remember) wrote, "And thus the North was formed." For me, 1913 is the year Northern Ireland was born. England found him and took him in, not knowing what he was supposed to represent. When Ireland first met Northern Ireland he immediately believed that England was going to try and replace him with Northern Ireland and so fiercely rejected his little brother, calling him a mistake.

2. In 1922 when Ireland was finally going to gain independence from the UK, England had one condition: Ireland could be free if he gave the north of his island to the UK. Not only that, but if that condition was refused, England's government threatened to send their army to Ireland and start a full-out war on the people. The four people who were sent by the Irish people to sign the agreement for their country's liberation saw themselves forced to agree, though none were happy about it. As a result of having to leave the north of Ireland behind, a civil war started in Ireland. Ireland's younger brother became the representation of Northern Ireland and because his people were majorly Protestants at that time, I would think he was actually happy staying with England as he was more attached to him than to Ireland who constantly rejected him. I'd think that Ireland would resent Northern Ireland as he, in a way, caused the civil war in Ireland and was the foothold England needed to keep a part of what Ireland saw as HIS land.

3. Finally, the mentality of the people. Oddly enough, when a person says they come from Northern Ireland then the other Irish people start to set that person apart from them. The mentality of some of the Irish people is "Oh, we want you guys to come back since you're Irish but all the same, you're Northern Irish." I got that idea from an Irish woman who went to an interview in Brussels. She comes from Northern Ireland and the moment she mentioned that at the interview, one of the interviewer who was Irish started treating her as if she came from Russia or something, and kept repeating the words "North Irish" and "Northern Ireland" to her.

Yeah, sorry for that, I know it was a lengthy explanation. The historical references come from my Irish father who studied Irish history from A-Z and knows a lot about it. I would want to confirm all that with him except he has this bad habit to go into hour-long lectures about "evil England" and "poor Ireland" and frankly I don't feel up to that. He also doesn't think that Northern Ireland should exist (yeah, he's partly aware of my Hetalia craze) as it is merely a "political idea" but... well, there's another reason at the end of the chapter why I think Northern Ireland should be an individual character.

Anyway, enjoy this chapter! ^^

Disclaimer: Hetalia and the characters don't belong to me.

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Chapter 4

"Alright, since it's nearly lunch time and I'm the hero, I declare this meeting adjourned and will restart again around 1:00 pm. See you then!"

Most of the countries stood up to go eat their lunch while the rest stayed seated and chatted among each other. They had accomplished almost nothing during the meeting but everyone was used to that kind of progress, they did argue and fight with each other most of the time. Although the fights today had been significantly less loud since a certain grouchy Englishman was not present. Admittedly it was a nice change for many of the countries, a change most knew wouldn't last.

Ireland and Wales remained seated, just taking their time to relax. Wales complained slightly, "I really can't see how you get things done during those meetings. They're absolutely chaotic! And how many times did I have to explain that my country is not full of whales?"

"If you come often to those meetings you eventually get used to it. There are times where I get mistaken with other countries as well. A couple of times it was with Iceland just because of that one letter difference and once we had a meeting about false passports and they spent 10 minutes debating whether IR was for Ireland or Iran." Ireland scribbled on his paper with a bored expression.

"Do you think England is alright?" Ireland asked after a while, trying not to appear worried. Ireland would not admit that he was a bit concerned about England.

"Surely." Wales answered nonchalantly, leaning his head on one hand. "Nations don't have fatal illnesses and England has always recovered quickly."

"It's just odd, you mentioned earlier that he was falling sick quite often." Ireland mused but then shrugged, "Maybe it's just his cooking."

Wales smiled, "When was the last time you tasted his scones?"

Ireland blinked and hastily replied, "Personally I don't want to remember."

Both laughed loudly but neither were completely reassured.

* * *

After having spent most of the morning sitting beside England's bed, Scotland stood up and walked out of the room. Scotland felt a bit restless and he wondered where the other nation was. He found Northern Ireland in the living room where he was reading a book.

"North, I'm going to go out to stretch my legs a bit, would you go check on England now and again to make sure he's okay?" Scotland asked, wondering if Northern Ireland was in a better mood now.

Northern Ireland looked up from his book, his expression neutral while he nodded. "Did anything change?"

Scotland shook his head, "The fever went up and down several times but other than that nothing has changed. I'm surprised that England still hasn't woken up yet."

"Maybe he will wake up later..." Northern Ireland proposed hopefully. He stood up and walked towards England's room while Scotland went outside.

As Northern Ireland sat beside the bed of England and watched England quietly. He felt England's forehead and noticed that the fever was dropping again. Northern Ireland was starting to feel worried. If England had the flu, why hadn't he woken up? Did flues cause you to pass out?

His hand slid down to England's hand and gripped it tightly. Northern Ireland couldn't understand why he was so worried but until now, every time England had been sick he had remained conscious and was always able to tell Northern Ireland that he would be alright. This was the first time that Northern Ireland saw him in this state. He would be less worried if he knew that England was just asleep and not sick.

Northern Ireland looked down in surprise when he felt England's hand squeeze his. Was England conscious? Northern Ireland leaned closer and asked hurriedly, "England, are you awake? If you can hear me, then wake up!"

England frowned, his brow furrowing but his eyes remained tightly shut. Northern Ireland held his breath, wondering if England was going to wake up. England started shaking his head, his expression pained, as if he was having a nightmare.

"Wake up England, please!" Northern Ireland hated himself for begging but he really wanted England to finally open his eyes and tell him he was alright. Like he would always do. He started when England's eyes slowly opened. But seeing England's eyes did Northern Ireland no good.

They appeared to be dull and lifeless but they were filled with pain. England's lips started moving but at first Northern Ireland could barely hear what he was frantically whispering. "...make it stop, make it stop, make it stop, make it stop, make it stop..." England's whispers started to sound like a mantra and his grip on Northern Ireland's hand tightened.

"Stop what England?" Northern Ireland asked uneasily, now wishing that Scotland was here. He would know what to do.

"The pain... please... I can't take it... stop it... pain..." England gritted his teeth and his body began to tremble.

"Where is the pain? Where is it?" Northern Ireland held England's hand more firmly, hoping to somehow comfort the other country.

"Whole body... b-burning... c-can't t-take it... stop it... p-please... s-stop..." England breathed harshly, his whole body trembling violently and back arching.

Suddenly his eyes widened and he shot into a sitting position, clutching his head. "MAKE IT STOP, MAKE IT STOP, MAKE IT STOP!" England screamed, fiercely shaking his head and gritting his teeth.

Northern Ireland started to panic. "Hold it out England, I will get Scotland!" He started to leave but was stopped by England who grabbed his wrist.

"Please stop the pain!" England cried and Northern Ireland was forced to see England's eyes. They were ablaze with frenzy, pure pain radiating from them. England's grip was starting to crush Northern Ireland's wrist and a strangled cry escaped England's mouth as another wave of pain ran through his body.

Northern Ireland pushed as gently as possible England into the bed. "Please hold it out England, I'll get help. Just stay awake." Northern Ireland pleaded desperately, but as he held England the older country started thrashing around, as if physical contact was causing him more pain.

Northern Ireland quickly let go of England and was about to get Scotland when England let out a loud cry which quickly faded away. At first frozen to his spot, he quickly turned around and rushed back to England.

The thrashing had stopped and the breathing had calmed down. England still wore a pained expression but his eyes were closed again.

"England?" Northern Ireland ventured fearfully but got no reaction. He felt England's forehead and noted that the fever was going up again. It seemed that England had passed out again.

Northern Ireland took his seat beside the bed again and observed England. To speak plainly, Northern Ireland was very distressed. He now knew that England was very sick, even sicker than he had ever been. England was in great pain and Northern Ireland could do nothing else but watch.

He hated it. He hated feeling so helpless, so useless. He didn't know why England was sick, he didn't know how to relieve England's pain and he didn't even know what kind of illness England had. He felt utterly useless.

Northern Ireland buried his face into his hands and refused to look up for a while. After a few minutes Scotland came back into the room, fully oblivious to what had happened previously.

"So, any change?" Scotland asked in a bored tone, not really noticing Northern Ireland's distress.

"England woke up." Northern Ireland replied coldly, not looking up.

"Oh, did he?" Scotland looked at England and wondered, "Did he say anything?"

"You shouldn't have left."

"Huh?" Scotland looked at the younger nation uncomprehendly.

He finally looked up and glared angrily at Scotland. How could the idiot have left him to deal with England alone?

"You shouldn't have left." He repeated in a trembling voice. "Y-you have no idea... n-no idea at all w-what is going on? Y-you shouldn't have left, you would have known... I didn't. I couldn't do anything. You idiot, pretending everything is going to be f-f-fine..."

Northern Ireland had not noticed his own tears at first but as it got harder for him to express his anger he trailed off. He scowled as he wiped the tears away and hastily got to his feet. Northern Ireland was out of the room before Scotland had a chance to say something.

Turning his attention back to England, Scotland sighed heavily. Not only was he disturbed by what Northern Ireland had said but also his actions. Northern Ireland was in tears, something that hadn't happened since the Belfast Blitz and that alone confirmed Scotland's worries about England's sickness.

But what had happened? No, the more pressing question was: what were they going to do now?

* * *

It was toward late evening when Ireland and Wales finally returned from the meeting. Of course after the lunch break they had hardly accomplished anything but then again no one was expecting a miracle.

Upon their arrival they were greeted by Scotland and they immediately asked how England was doing.

"Well he did wake up once today but otherwise it's been just ups and downs with his fever." Scotland stated, wondering if he should tell them about Northern Ireland's reaction. He was known to exaggerate things sometimes which was why Scotland was hesitant. But Northern Ireland had cried... was he for once not exaggerating?

"Sasana woke up? Did he say something?" Ireland asked curiously.

Scotland shrugged, "I don't know, I wasn't there when he woke up. Northern Ireland was there but he won't really tell me what England said."

"Typical." Ireland grumbled under his breath. Scotland and Wales both gazed at Ireland with raised eyebrows. "What?" Ireland demanded, bothered with the way they looked at him.

Wales was the first to break eye contact. He stated, "So by the looks of it, England won't be able to go to the other meeting tomorrow. I guess then-"

"-I'll replace him tomorrow." Scotland quickly cut Wales off and grinned triumphantly. Wales scowled slightly. "Come on Wales, you can't keep me out of these meetings forever. Besides, I'm older than you." Scotland declared, fully pleased with himself that he managed to cut Wales off.

"Doesn't change a thing." Wales muttered stubbornly, crossing his arms. But he finally relented, "Well it's not as if you can do much damage in those meetings anyway."

"Yes!" Scotland shouted, pumping his fist in the air. He then hugged Wales and gave him a noogie to which Wales protested loudly.

Ireland shook his head in amusement and feeling thirsty, left the scene to go to the kitchen. Turning around the corner he accidently bumped into Northern Ireland who had been sulking there.

Not meeting his younger brother's gaze, he sidestepped Northern Ireland and continued down the hall. Northern Ireland glared after him and stood up to follow him. He had heard that Scotland was going to the meeting and it... angered him.

Ireland finally noticed that he was being followed and he swiftly turned around, confronting Northern Ireland. Northern Ireland stopped and glared defiantly at his older brother.

"What do you want?" Ireland asked coolly, not in the mood to start a fight with Northern Ireland.

"I want to go to the world meeting." Northern Ireland demanded boldly, awaiting Ireland's reaction.

Fighting back a sneer, Ireland replied, "Alba is going already, you don't need to go."

"But I want to go." Northern Ireland shot back.

"Well, too bad."

Northern Ireland took a deep breath. This was going to be more difficult than he thought it would. He quickly blurted out jumbled words that hardly made sense but Ireland was able to catch part of the sentence which sounded smething like "meeting", "with Scotland" and "not with you".

Ireland blinked in confusion and asked, "Can you repeat that? I didn't get one word."

Northern Ireland shuffled his feet uncomfortably and repeated, "I want to go in your place tomorrow."

Ireland gaped at Northern Ireland before he finally choked out, "Are you barking mad?"

Northern Ireland refused to look away, staring defiantly at Ireland.

"Why do you want to do that, Tuaisceart Éireann?" Ireland asked, his voice dangerously low. Northern Ireland was not fazed by the tone.

"I want to go to the meeting with Scotland, not with you." Northern Ireland stated simply, his gaze betraying no feelings.

For a brief moment hurt flickered across Ireland's face. Though he wouldn't admit it, Northern Ireland's words stung Ireland. He quickly shook the feeling off and scowled.

"And what makes you think I will actually allow you to represent my people at the meeting?" Ireland questioned testily, looking at Northern Ireland with slight incredulity. How could Northern Ireland even think about that?

The younger nation shrugged uneasily, "We're part of the same land mass?"

"But we are not the same country! I'm the Poblacht na hÉireann and you're Northern Ireland, part of the United Kingdom. We have two different rialtais! An bhfuil tú as do meabhair?" Ireland demanded angrily.

Northern Ireland bristled slightly, annoyed that Ireland was slipping into his native tongue. Not that he couldn't understood anything at all, he had a weak grasp of the language but he didn't want Ireland to notice that.

"According to your ex-boss, De Valera, my people are your people. We are not that different." Northern Ireland reasoned, trying his best to calm himself down.

"Don't you dare use my ex-boss against me!" Ireland warned. He added, "Anyhow, why do you want to go so badly to this meeting? It's not like we accomplish anything."

"I don't want to stay here." Northern Ireland replied bluntly.

"Then why don't you go home."

"That would be running away."

"...and going to the meeting is not?" Ireland crossed his arms, looking sceptical.

"Look, can't you just understand that I don't want to be here and I'd prefer going to that bloody meeting?" Northern Ireland snapped.

Ireland shook his head, "No, because you haven't told me why you don't want to be here."

Northern Ireland groaned, "Isn't it obvious? I can't stand seeing England like this!"

"Like what?"

Northern Ireland sighed, suddenly looking sad. "I can't see England sick like that. Until now, every time he was sick, he was always conscious enough to tell me that he would be fine. But this time he only woke up once and... it was horrible." The younger nation paused, looking distressed. Ireland unfolded his arms and looked at his younger brother curiously.

With a shaking voice Northern Ireland continued, "England was practically begging for the pain to stop and when I asked where the pain was he told me... that it was everywhere. And the way he looked at me... and I couldn't do anything to help him. I felt so helpless..."

He trailed off and he saw Ireland looking at him in utter surprise. Northern Ireland felt his cheek with his hand and mentally cursed himself. Why was he crying again? And in front of Ireland no less!

Northern Ireland quickly wiped his tears away and started to walk away from Ireland, deeply mortified. Crying in front of Scotland was bad enough but with Ireland... hell that was extremely embarrassing. He would never live it down.

Ireland caught hold of Northern Ireland's shoulder. Northern Ireland froze but did not turn around, not wanting Ireland to see his tear-stained face. He was startled by what Ireland said next.

"Look... deartháir, if it's such a big deal to you then I... I guess I can let you go in my place tomorrow." Ireland's tone had softened, losing its characteristic hostility that Northern Ireland always heard when talking to Ireland.

Northern Ireland felt his cheeks tinge pink a bit. Ireland had called him brother in Irish, something that almost never happened. He was usually just Tuaisceart Éireann or Northern Ireland to his brother. He felt kind of happy... not to have the usual insults thrown at him or to be just completely ignored. It felt nice.

"I err... t-thanks Ireland. Thank you." Northern Ireland stammered and rushed off, definitely not wanting Ireland to see the slight blush on his face. There was absolutely no chance Northern Ireland would admit to Ireland any of that. It would make him appear weak and Northern Ireland couldn't stand to be weak. As one of the youngest country of this crazy bunch of brothers, Northern Ireland felt that he had to prove himself to them.

Ireland stared after him, wondering what he had said to cause the younger nation to suddenly run off like that. Sometimes he just couldn't understand Northern Ireland. Ireland was a bit worried over what Northern Ireland had said. Was England that sick?

It made Northern Ireland distressed enough to cry. That alone was convincing enough for Ireland. But he was at loss of what he should do. All nations now and again fell sick but after some rest they always recovered. That was considered normal.

But Ireland could not recall what a nation did if they were very sick. Did they call a doctor? Would a doctor know what to do? A nation's body wasn't entirely like a human body, hence why nations avoided doctors. No nation knew exactly what the differences in their bodies were but there was always a danger that doctor would see it and become suspicious.

So a doctor was out of question. But what else was left? All that could be done then is let England rest and hopefully he would recover from whatever he was suffering from. He hoped that this was going to be the case.

Ireland found himself walking into England's room where he found Scotland and Wales sitting next to the bed, talking in low voices. They looked up when he came in and he could feel that they were also worried about England.

"Scotland, it looks like Northern Ireland will be accompanying you tomorrow to the meeting instead of me." Ireland informed tiredly as he sat beside them.

Scotland blinked in surprise before he replied, "Uh, okay then." After a pause he asked, "Why?"

Ireland shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, "He asked me if he could and he kind of managed to convince me. He seems very upset about all this."

"Aye, I feel a bit bad for the lad. He's so attached to England..." Scotland started saying but then noticed Ireland stiffening. He glanced at Ireland and sure enough, Ireland was looking away from him and glaring at the wall.

"Ach, come on Ireland, let it go already." Scotland complained, rolling his eyes at his elder brother.

"Jealousy never did anyone good." Wales added teasingly, a knowing smile appearing on his face.

"M'not jealous!" Ireland defended stubbornly, crossing his arms and pouting.

"Ireland is jealous!" both brothers chanted happily while Ireland hissed at them to shut up.

When Northern Ireland passed the room he came upon an odd scene. Apparently Ireland had tried to pounce the two other nations to shut them up but somehow ended up having both nations pining him to the floor. Both nations where holding back their laughter as Ireland struggled to free himself, cursing quietly under his breath.

"What are you three doing?" Northern Ireland asked curiously, surprised at the display of childishness.

"Eh, none of your business little squirt." Scotland winked at Northern Ireland while he ruffled Ireland's hair.

"Will you two buffoons get off of me now?" Ireland demanded, trying and failing at getting them off him.

Both nations got off Ireland laughing heartily while Northern Ireland still stood at the doorway, glancing at his three elder brothers in faint amusement but still rather bewildered. Ireland shook his head, a bit annoyed that he had been pinned so easily.

"Don't try to understand Northern Ireland, you're not old enough." Wales chuckled, amused by Northern Ireland's reaction.

As Northern Ireland stood there, still trying to figure out what was wrong with his elder brothers who were now laughing because of Northern Ireland's perplexed expression, no one noticed through the racket they made that England slightly opened his eyes to look at them.

England frowned slightly. Try as he might, he was unable to see his brothers clearly. The lines were fuzzy and distorted. Before anyone could notice, England shut his eyes again, not having enough strength left to remain conscious for long. For now his brothers remained completely oblivious to England's deteriorating condition.

* * *

Some explanations

Ireland's issues: The problem with the names of Ireland and Iceland has happened a couple of times already. The thing with the passports is actually a personal experience of mine. My family went to Turkey and in the airport the guards at the border really spent a long time on our passports, calling over colleagues constantly until one had the bright idea of using their computer. Not my best experience.

Belfast Blitz: In WWII, Belfast was the second city of the UK that was the most destroyed (just after London). A lot of the blame is put on the government of Northern Ireland as they did almost nothing: hardly any shelters were built, at least not enough for the dense population of Northern Ireland, no searchlights were set up, there were no night-fighters and the children weren't evacuated. So, the people were really sitting ducks when German planes bombed them and weren't able to fight the Germans effectively. The German bombs destroyed many homes and a lot of lives were lost. The city's waterworks were attacked and destroyed so that when the incendiaries were dropped, the whole of Belfast would be aflame and the firefighters wouldn't be able to fight the fire as there wasn't enough water left. The government of Northern Ireland sent a message out to Ireland for assistance, to which the Irish quickly responded by sending them firefighters. When Belfast was bombed again the Irish firefighters crossed the border without waiting for an invitation to help out again with the fires. (THIS is another reason why I think of Northern Ireland as an individual character. Doesn't anyone see the potential brotherly fluff of this historical period?)

"My people are your people" speech: De Valera, Ireland's boss at that time did actually react to the Belfast Blitz with a "they are our people" speech. And the funniest thing of this is that after that, Joseph Goebbels ordered the German officers not to mention the Belfast Blitz ever again. According to Hitler, there was a danger that De Valera's negative reaction might cause the Irish American politicians in America to encourage the Americans to join the war against Germany.

Translations:

Poblacht na hÉireann = Republic of Ireland

rialtais = government

An bhfuil tú as do meabhair? = Are you out of your mind?


	5. Chapter 5

Aha, it all gets revealed now! :) If there any of the symptons that are described that sound inconsistant or unrealistic, I'll say in my defense that a nation's body does not function exactly like a human's body. This chapter was fun to write as several things happen here. Enjoy! ^^

Disclaimer: Hetalia and the characters do not belong to me.

* * *

Chapter 5

Scotland and Northern Ireland had thankfully arrived quite early at the meeting but that did not stop them from attracting a few curious nations who had arrived early as well. After all, Scotland and Northern Ireland did not venture too far from their homes so for many countries it was the first time meeting these two.

Upon his arrival, France was quite surprised to see these two countries. He of course hadn't expected England to have recovered so quickly but he was still surprised. He recognized Scotland quickly and assumed that Scotland had finally managed to convince Wales to replace England for one of these meetings.

The younger nation France, however, could not recognize at first. He was sitting at Ireland's place so the only logical explanation was that this was Northern Ireland. But hadn't England mentioned that Ireland and Northern Ireland couldn't stand each other? That they were always fighting? If Northern Ireland was here to represent Ireland that would mean that England was seriously sick.

France could also tell from the look on their faces that they've had very little sleep last night or in Scotland's case, maybe none at all. Though France would never say it out loud, he found himself worrying a bit for England. He had once or twice seen England sick but it had never seemed that bad.

America strolled in, five minutes late as usual. He discreetly scanned the room and France was sure the American was looking for England. Not seeing him, America shrugged and walked to his place. France wondered why England and America were still in denial over their feelings. It was just so obvious to the self-proclaimed country of love that these two stubborn countries had feelings for each other. France wondered if America was also worried about England.

"Alright everyone, the meeting has started!" America called, gaining the attention of all the countries. America grinned, "Okay so I was thinking yesterday and I have a new idea of what we could do to stop the ice caps from melting..."

France groaned internally. This was going to be another long meeting. And of course with England missing the meeting was bound to be boring. France would somehow have to provoke another country... maybe he should grope the country sitting next to him. A lewd grin appeared on France's face.

Yeah, that would be a good idea.

* * *

Ireland grumbled a bit. Since he had woken up he and Wales took turns taking care of England. Not that they had to do much. Ireland just had to check England's fever and put a wet towel on his forehead if the fever was high. Then take it off when the fever dropped.

It was a bloody yo-yo process and Ireland was already tired from the previous night because he hadn't slept enough. He wished that England would wake up or at least show some sign of life. Right now it almost looked like he was in a coma. Ireland hadn't had any success in waking him.

England frowned and his eyes tightened. Ireland sat up and scrutinized the Englishman closely. Was he finally gaining consciousness? England shook his head and his body trembled.

Suddenly his eyes shot wide open and his whole body froze. England opened his mouth but no sound escaped. England's body started trembling violently, his limbs twitching and his fingers curling like talons. England started making choking sounds and attempted to rise up. Ireland quickly sprung to his feet and fetched the pail that stood near the bed.

Ireland held the pail under England's head, who was weakly supporting himself on one elbow. Ireland was shocked with what England coughed up turned out to be dark red liquid. Blood. England was coughing up blood.

Not only that but he was coughing up a lot of blood. Ireland paled at the amount, wondering where the hell all that blood was coming from. After some retching, England's elbow gave way and England fell on his side. His body continued to tremble and it looked like England was trying to curl up but was having trouble doing so. As if he couldn't coordinate his movements correctly.

"Sasana?" Ireland approached the trembling nation warily, not knowing what he should do. England opened his mouth but once again no sound was heard. He closed his mouth and gritted his teeth, his arms making jerky movements.

"Sasana, can you hear me?" Ireland asked desperately, trying to remember how you could stop a seizure. Could it be done? Ireland laid a hand on England's shoulder but England did not respond. The trembling was becoming less violent though England showed no signs of having heard Ireland. He didn't even seem to realize that Ireland was beside him.

"England?" Ireland gently shook England's shoulder, hoping for at least one response. He looked into England's eyes and noticed how dull they had become. They stared ahead but they didn't seem to see anything. They looked so empty, devoid of all feelings. Ireland pulled back, shuddering.

England's eyes started closing again, the seizure having passed. Ireland stared at England forlornly, split between keeping England awake and letting England rest. If England fell asleep would he wake up again? Or would keeping him awake just damage him further?

Before Ireland could reach a decision England had slipped back into unconsciousness. Wales quickly strode into the room, looking worried.

"I heard you from downstairs. What happened?" Wales asked uneasily, walking up to Ireland. Ireland nodded his head wordlessly to the pail that was on the ground.

Wales paled when he saw the content of the pail.

"So much blood..." Wales whispered fearfully, "What is wrong with England?"

"Do you still think Sasana will recover just by resting?" Ireland looked at Wales doubtfully.

Shaking his head slowly Wales said, "This is serious. I've never seen England that sick before and he just seems to get worse. Did he say anything when he was awake?"

"No, he didn't even seem to know that I was near him."

"What should we do? We have to do something now!"

"I suppose we should get a doctor."

Wales frowned. "I don't know, do you think a doctor would know what to do? I personally never heard of an illness that caused you to cough up so much blood."

"Oi, isn't there any nation who might know something?" Ireland proposed, surely not all nations were unknowing about illnesses.

"I think the older nations might know something. I mean this could be a nation-related problem and they might know something." Wales seemed to think it over as well.

"Well, we should ask maybe the oldest nation."

"That's China, right?"

Ireland suddenly looked more positive. "Of course, an tSín! His people are known for their traditional medicine! He surely knows what to do."

Wales took out his mobile phone from his pocket.

"You have China's phone number?" Ireland asked surprised. Wales rolled his eyes.

"Of course not. But Scotland and Northern Ireland are at the meeting and China is also there. And it's close to noon, so the lunch break should start soon. They could ask China to come here and see what is wrong with England."

"That would be grand." Ireland sighed as he looked at England. His face had gone deathly pale. It was clear that England needed help. And quickly.

Hopefully China would be able to help.

* * *

Scotland and Northern Ireland listened silently to what Wales was telling them. Northern Ireland was looking horrified as he heard snippets from Scotland's phone.

"Coughing up blood..." "...a seizure..." "...didn't seem fully conscious..." "...looks pale..."

Northern Ireland shut his eyes and tried drowning out Wale's voice. He didn't want to hear anymore. But then he heard Wales ask, "...so can you guys go ask China for help?" Northern Ireland was a bit confused. Why ask China? Didn't he still have a grudge about the Opium Wars?

"I'll try talking to him now." Scotland quietly affirmed and hung up, looking over at the other end of the table. China was for once sitting alone enjoying his lunch, his favourite stalkers letting him have his peace today.

Scotland sighed, feeling a bit nervous. He had almost no experience interacting with nations who were geographically very far from him. He knew quite a few European nations but otherwise nations like China or Japan were complete strangers to Scotland.

Looking at Northern Ireland, Scotland realized that the younger nation was worse off. Mainly due to his age, Northern Ireland hardly knew any other nations apart from his brothers, having preferred to confine himself to his house. He barely knew the European countries that lay close by.

So it was up to Scotland to approach China. He had to do it or else... what was going to happen to England? From the sounds of it there was a danger that England could... die? Could a nation die of an illness? Regardless, Scotland would have to see if China could help.

Northern Ireland was still looking at him worriedly and Scotland shot him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Alright, here goes nothing." Scotland mumbled as he stood up and walked towards the Asian nation. Staring after him uncertainly, Northern Ireland quickly stood up and hurried after Scotland.

As both brothers approached China, said nation looked up curiously with a hint of suspicion. China scrutinized their faces, trying to remember who they were. Then he spotted the characteristic eyebrows of both island nations and he didn't need to wonder further who they were.

"You're England's brothers, right aru?" China asked when the two nations reached him.

Scotland blinked in surprise. How did China know? China was staring at them with slight suspicion.

"Uh yes, we are..." Scotland replied hesitantly, not really knowing what to say. Northern Ireland lingered close by his side, clearly wary of China.

"What do you want aru?" China asked bluntly, despite looking suspiciously at them China was curious to know what they wanted from him.

Scotland shifted from one foot to another and finally decided to just say everything. "Well, you know that England is still sick..." Scotland began but trailed off apprehensively.

China nodded his head impatiently, wanting Scotland to get to the point already. Why were the European nations so slow? China would never understand these nations.

The Scot scratched his head and continued, "Well, me and my brothers are starting to doubt that England has an illness where he just needs to rest and then he will be fine in a couple days-"

"What makes you think that aru?" China inquired, still not sure what they wanted from him.

"I just got a call from Wales and he told me that England coughed up a lot of blood. What do you think England has to make him that sick?" Scotland prayed that China knew something about it. If he didn't know then who else would know?

China frowned and asked, "His country is not doing too badly in this economic crisis, aru?"

Scotland shook his head, "Compared to others I wouldn't think the economic crisis would cause England's sickness. Besides, none of the other countries of the UK are sick."

"I'm not really sure but there are some sicknesses that humans have that do cause the patient to cough up blood. But most of those sicknesses are quite serious and I don't remember any nation having one of them." China seemed deep in thought, trying to remember. But no memories came to him.

To tell the truth, China was intrigued. England was apparently suffering of an illness that was not related to his people and possibly an illness no other nation has ever had. But was it an illness? China realized that without seeing England himself he would not be able to tell for sure whether England was suffering from an illness or not.

"Would it be possible for me to take a look at England myself aru?" China finally asked. Scotland nodded quickly, saying, "Actually Wales and Ireland wanted me to ask you that. They feel you would know more because you're known for your traditional medicine."

"Then it's settled," China decided as he stood up, "Let's go then aru."

Northern Ireland, who had been silent during the whole conversation, ventured tentatively, "What about the rest of the meeting?"

China shrugged, "France will try to sexually assault another nation, all the nations will argue and America will try to propose another unrealistic idea to save the world. We're surely not going to miss much aru." He started walking out of the meeting with Scotland and Northern Ireland following suit.

"Not to be rude aru, but who're you exactly?" China looked at Northern Ireland who returned the gaze blankly.

"He's Ireland's younger brother." Scotland explained for Northern Ireland who seemed to have spaced out.

"Northern Ireland? I thought these two were always fighting? That's what I hear a lot from England and Ireland aru." China was staring at the younger nation critically.

"Err... that's usually the case but we're... a bit worried about England." Scotland admitted while Northern Ireland was having an internal struggle with himself. Why was he acting like a fool around China? Was he just intimidated by China's age? With an annoyed huff, Northern Ireland sped up his pace and walked away, leaving Scotland and China behind.

"Don't mind Northern Ireland, he has his moments." Scotland apologized, slightly frustrated with Northern Ireland's mood swings. He knew Northern Ireland was worried about England but dammit, he too was also worried!

"Ah, younger siblings are sometimes so difficult to understand aru." China smiled as he remembered his own younger siblings and how difficult they had been to handle.

Scotland was reminded of the other younger sibling who was now lying sick in bed. Scotland sighed and answered, "Indeed they are."

* * *

When the doorbell rang both Ireland and Wales opened the door. They were surprised to find Northern Ireland alone.

Answering their silent question he said sheepishly, "Scotland and China are coming soon, I just was quicker than them."

"How was the meeting?" Wales asked as Northern Ireland walked inside.

"Umm, how about plain weird?" Northern Ireland offered helplessly, looking a bit perturbed. "I don't like France much though." He added frowning.

Ireland and Wales grinned. "Who did he go after this time?" Wales held back a small laugh.

Northern Ireland looked positively horrified, "You mean that happens often?"

"All the time!" Ireland and Wales declared loudly.

Just then the doorbell rang again and Wales opened the door. Scotland and China walked in. Scotland shot Northern Ireland a glance that clearly meant "I'm having a talk with you later."

"Thank you that you could come." Wales thanked solemnly while Ireland nodded his thanks.

"Don't worry about it, I just want to see what I can do." China said nonchalantly.

"Alright, England is in his room." Scotland motioned towards upstairs and started walking up the stairs. China and Ireland followed soon after and as Northern Ireland was about to go after them he was stopped by Wales.

"North, if you don't feel up to it, don't force yourself to be there just out of loyalty." Wales advised quietly, looking at Northern Ireland with concern. Northern Ireland looked torn between following the other nations and staying behind.

Northern Ireland turned and walked to the living room and flopped on the couch. Wales stared after the younger nation and then went to join the others.

Northern Ireland was not in the best mood. He had to admit to himself and Wales that he didn't, no couldn't, see England in the current state that he was in. It would be acknowledging that England was in danger and Northern Ireland couldn't do that.

Standing up again, Northern Ireland started pacing about restlessly. "Shit!" Northern Ireland hissed venomously and lashed out at the nearest object. He kicked a waste basket out of his way. He would have probably attacked another object if it weren't for a certain sound he heard.

Had he just heard the clink of a glass? Turning his attention to the overturned waste basket, Northern Ireland swept the balled up paper aside to retrieve an object. He gazed at it in surprise. A small jar? Then he spotted another object. Was that a syringe?

Looking at both objects in his hands Northern Ireland wondered why they were in the waste basket. What purpose did they have? He decided that he would ask later. Surely there was a reason for them here. He just didn't know why.

* * *

China frowned to himself. He had before him what he could easily call an enigma.

On first sight China would have assumed, like England's brothers, that the former British Empire was simply suffering from pneumonia but some of the symptoms were not adding up.

To start with the large amount of blood England coughed up. It wasn't uncommon for a little blood to be coughed up but the amount of blood England coughed up was worrying.

Also the lack of coughing. All patients of pneumonia coughed and according to the brothers, England hadn't coughed once.

High fever was a common symptom of pneumonia but then China learned that the fever would rise and drop drastically very often. Too often.

Another worrying symptom was the heart beat. A patient of pneumonia would have an increased heart rate but it was the opposite for England. The heart rate was slow which did not explain why England's breathing was shallow and rapid.

The convulsions that England experienced were short, violent and there was a large gap between each of them. China scratched his head. Many symptoms pointed towards pneumonia and others then completely contradicted the diagnosis.

China took England's arm and felt the spots where the muscles should have reacted. The muscles of the arm failed to respond, hinting that they may be paralysed. Was England suffering from paralysis? But England wouldn't be stuck in a coma-like state.

England couldn't be in a coma because it wouldn't explain the times he had woken up. China looked up and asked, "Can you call Northern Ireland in aru? I would like him to tell me what England said exactly when he first woke up."

Scotland nodded and left the room, returning after a minute with Northern Ireland. "What exactly did England say when he woke up?" China questioned the younger nation.

Northern Ireland seemed reluctant at first to say anything but at the prompting of the other brothers he finally said, "England kept saying to stop the pain, that it was everywhere and that it was burning. He didn't say more than that."

China's brow furrowed. "Burning pain..." He muttered thoughtfully as he stared at England's pale face. He reached forward and opened one of England's eyes.

Now that was one symptom he was not expecting! England's pupil was fully dilated and if it wasn't for the tiny constriction the pupil made when exposed to the light, China would have believed England dead. But what was the cause for this dilation?

"Umm..." a quiet voice sounded behind China. Turning around, China saw Northern Ireland step forward. Northern Ireland tried again, "...well...while I was downstairs I found something in the waste basket that I don't think belongs there..." he trailed off and held the two objects before him.

China took the two objects and studied them with great interest. One was a little empty jar but since it had no labels China could not guess what it had contained. The other object was a syringe.

Looking at both objects things suddenly started clicking together. The empty jar... the syringe... England's dilated pupils... apparent muscle paralysis... previous convulsions... England talking about burning pain...

The answer was so clear that China was surprised. He looked at the brothers and stated simply, "Poison."

"Huh?"

Seeing their confused expressions China elaborated, "England has been poisoned aru."

Wales frowned and echoed, "Poisoned? But how was England poisoned?"

"Isn't it apparent aru? England used the syringe to inject whatever was in the jar into his bloodstream-" China explained but was cut off by Scotland.

"Wait, you're actually telling us that England tried committing suicide?" Scotland exclaimed, looking alarmed. The other brothers looked at each other in horror. England... had tried to kill himself? All four brothers were speechless.

"Well, I'm going to make him an antidote, aru." China said firmly and stood up. "I will need some particular herbs, I'm sure I can get them here if one of you can show me where the Chinatown is aru."

"I think I know where it is." Wales volunteered and both nations quickly left the room.

"Oi, what should we do?" Ireland called after them.

"Don't do anything aru! All England needs is that antidote." China replied hurriedly before the front door was closed.

Scotland and Ireland stood there, still in shock about the revelation. "Never thought Sasana would be the suicidal type..." Ireland muttered, gazing back at England. Scotland nodded wordlessly, it was quite a shock for both elder brothers.

"Hey Ireland, where did Northern Ireland go?" Scotland asked suddenly, looking around him.

Ireland did the same and groaned, "I can't believe that brat, he disappeared again! How does he do that?"

Scotland added, "Did you know that Northern Ireland acts very antisocial? Throughout the whole meeting he was silent and when we talked to China he seemed almost mute."

The other nation threw his hands up in exasperation, "What is wrong with all these younger nations? Sasana is suicidal, Tuaisceart Éireann is antisocial, all we really need is that Breatain Beag turns out to be a sociopath!"

Scotland shrugged, "Maybe it has something to do with the person they look up to." He quietly and carefully walked out of the room. Ireland jolted when he finally understood the intended insult.

"Hey óinseach, I dare you to come back and repeat that again!" Ireland yelled angrily and stomped after Scotland.

* * *

"China? There's something I don't really understand." Wales looked curiously at China. The Asian nation didn't say anything so Wales continued.

"You don't know what kind of poison England took, right? So how can you get him the right antidote?"

"That would only apply to humans, aru." China explained shortly. "You are aware that it is very difficult for a nation to be killed by another, yes?"

Wales nodded slowly. China continued, "Then it is absolutely impossible for a nation to commit suicide. Or at least, I've never seen or heard of a nation who succeeded. Admittedly England would be the first to use poison as a method to kill himself but he isn't the first nation to have been poisoned aru."

"Who else then?" Wales asked.

China shook his head. "It happened too long ago. I can't remember who exactly, I just know that the nation in question had been bitten by a very venomous snake." China checked if there were any nosy humans listening to their conversation.

He proceeded, "The function of a venom or poison, although their ways vary, remains the same: They render the body unable to function correctly. A long time ago I discovered a couple of herbs, when blended together, were able to inhibit the effect of venom or poison in the bloodstream. That way the nation who had been bitten by the snake recovered quickly from the bite and did not suffer too much. Our body compared to a human's body is very resistant. Fatal poisons that would kill a human cannot kill a nation aru."

The Asian nation looked thoughtful and added, "However, just because a poison cannot kill doesn't mean it leaves the body of a nation undamaged. On the contrary, if a poison remains too long in the body it can cause irreparable damage to the nation. So England, though not in immediate danger of dying, needs this antidote if he is ever to recover. I don't know how strong the poison England used is but hopefully after he has received the antidote I may be able to tell how extensive the damage is aru."

Wales looked worried, "Will England be able to fully recover?"

China shrugged helplessly, "It depends aru. From what I've already seen England is suffering from muscle paralysis so I have to assume the poison managed to damage the nervous system and probably also the important organs like the heart. And from what you've told me, it's also a possibility that the poison has damaged the brain. I can just hope that the antidote won't be coming too late."

Both nations stopped at the entrance of the Chinatown. "Well, we have no time to lose then." Wales declared determinedly. China nodded curtly and both nations pushed their way into the busy Chinatown.

* * *

"Are you sure this will work?" Northern Ireland asked nervously as he stood beside China in the kitchen. China had crushed the herbs and now was mixing them with hot water in a bowl.

"Yes," China replied firmly, "I'm convinced this will help England aru. The antidote will stop the poison from doing more damage and it will give England's body time to heal and recover."

China looked at the mixture and nodded approvingly. The antidote was finished. He took a sample using a syringe and went to England's room. The brothers were gathered on one side of England's bed. Their faces showed their doubt and uncertainty. China couldn't help but sigh in frustration.

"Come on aru, I'm not going to kill England! I've done this before, don't you think with all my younger siblings not one would have eaten a poisonous fruit or something aru?" China complained, staring challengingly at the island nations.

They fidgeted uncomfortably and Scotland asked for them all, "It's just... aren't ye still mad about the Opium War?"

China blinked in surprise but then snorted, "I may not be happy of what happened at that time but I'm not like England aru. I don't hold grudges, I simply move forward and leave the past behind."

Turning to England, China approached the bed and placed the syringe on the nightstand. He took England's arm and rubbed the lower arm with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. When that was done China took the syringe and injected the antidote into the vein.

With the injection done China leaned back and said, "There, it's done aru."

"How long will it take for the antidote to take effect?" Wales asked, slightly relieved that England was more or less out of danger.

China thought for a while and replied, "It should start soon but don't expect much change until tomorrow morning or midday. It will be around then that England should start waking up."

The brothers thanked China enthusiastically, even Northern Ireland forgot his shyness temporarily. China smiled and insisted, "Don't worry about it aru, I like to help the nations when I can. The world does sometimes need an elder brother to look over them."

Everyone was surprised when the grandfather clock rung 4 o'clock. "I can't believe it's already that late." Scotland muttered and the other nations nodded.

"I better get going now. The world meeting still continues tomorrow. I'll see you all tomorrow then aru." China stood up and Wales and Ireland accompanied the Asian nation to the door.

Scotland turned to look at Northern Ireland who had taken the seat beside England's bed but before Scotland could say anything Northern Ireland replied bluntly, "No."

"I didn't even say anything!" Scotland protested loudly.

"But I knew what you were going to say." Northern Ireland glared at Scotland, "You can't expect me to socialize so easily with the other nations."

Scotland huffed in annoyance, "You can at least try to be less rude."

Northern Ireland did not reply, simply stood up and stalked out of the room. Scotland breathed, "Bloody hell..." and went after the younger nation.

* * *

_England was clear about one thing. His whole body hurt like hell. No, scratch that, it was worse than hell. _

_To be truthful, his body felt like it had been burned and stabbed many times. England slowly opened his eyes with great difficulty. Was it supposed to be so difficult to open your eyes? _

_Well, opening his eyes didn't change anything really. His surroundings remained dark and obscure. England couldn't see anything except darkness. He tried looking around but once again his muscles refused to react. His head would not turn._

_England opened his mouth to call out, or at least he attempted to open his mouth. But his lips would not separate, it was as if they were sewn together. This was starting to unsettle England. What was wrong with his body?_

_Instinctively England tried flexing his fingers. Nothing happened. The nation started panicking. His body wasn't responding at all to the orders the brain was sending out._

_A shock went through his body and every muscle stiffened. The sudden pain was so unexpected that England swiftly sat up and a faint whimper escaped from him. England was a little surprised but in a way relieved that he could still move._

_But when England tried turning his head he was frustrated when he found that he could not do it. Why was his body acting so strangely?_

_While some muscles relaxed of their own accord, others remained tense. The result was that England could not move forward nor could not lie down. He was stuck in this sitting position._

_...Why? England's mind tried thinking of a logical explanation but couldn't find any. That was not the only worrying thing. Though the pain was thankfully fading, a certain numbness was beginning to take over. And it wasn't only targeting England's body. _

_It was getting harder and harder to think straight. England... had to call for help. But who... could help? England tried grasping the images of faceless people who crossed his mind but they slipped past like sand. Who were... these people? _

_He had too... wait. Who was... he? Didn't he know that before? Now it was gone... where was... it... going? Now... words... were... going..._

_Ic... hwa? Hwi ic ācweþan þās gereord? For... stand...an..._

_Hw...elc?_

* * *

Oooh, now what's going to happen to England? At least he's finally awake but that is not the end of his troubles. :/ I really enjoy writing Ireland and Scotland, they're an amusing bunch. However Wales... still not too sure. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! ^^ I'll try to get the next one up soon!

Translations:

an tSín = China

The rest is old English, sadly I forgot which site I got it from:

_Ic = I_

_hwa = what_

_Hwi ic ācweþan þās gereord = Why am I speaking this language? (well, thats what England is meant to say though I doubt that its fully correct)_

_For... stand...an... = actually its "forstanden" which, if I remember well, means "help"_

___Hw...elc? = Any...one?_


	6. Chapter 6

Ah, now the story is starting to get a little more interesting. In this and the next chapter more characters will appear, I'm actually looking forward to writing chapter 7. :3

Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: Hetalia and the characters don't belong to me.

* * *

Chapter 6

"Hey, where's Tuaisceart Éireann and Breatain Beag?" Ireland asked tiredly and yawned widely as he entered the kitchen. Scotland looked up from his tea and replied, "They're at the meeting."

Ireland looked at his watch and cursed loudly. "Well," Scotland explained, "Seeing as you were still asleep, North decided to replace you again."

"I never gave him the permission to do that." Ireland grumbled, "It was only under special circumstances."

Scotland shrugged, not really caring. It's not like if it would have made a difference really.

"Did you check on Sasana yet?" Ireland asked after a while. Scotland shook his head and said, "China told us not to expect any change until midday."

"I'll check anyway." Ireland left the kitchen and walked to England's room.

When he opened the door Ireland froze. He blinked in confusion. Surely he had to be dreaming. He backed away and closed his eyes.

Ireland was sure that he was hallucinating. There was no way what he had seen was... England. He glanced back into the room.

Nope, still hallucinating. It had to be, this just seemed unreal.

Ireland licked his lips nervously. He had no choice but to confirm to himself that he was really hallucinating. He warily stepped into the room and approached the bed slowly.

"England?" Ireland whispered hoarsely.

* * *

"So, any changes aru?"

Lunch break had just been declared by the loud American and the first thing China had done was to stand up and walk over to England's brothers. He assumed it was Wales and Ireland's younger brother again but China was not too sure. He never had been familiar with England's family.

Wales looked surprised and replied uncertainly, "We didn't see much change yesterday and for today we haven't gotten their-" A mobile phone rang. "...call yet." Wales finished and answered the phone.

The nation jumped a little bit at the angry voice at the other end. China couldn't hear what exactly was being said but whoever was calling sounded really... confused. Wales interrupted, "Woah Ireland, calm down will you? I don't understand what you're getting so excited about."

The voice at the other end calmed down a bit but continued chattering quickly. "Yes, China is beside me." Wales replied patiently.

The voice paused and said something quickly. Wales nodded and said, "I'll pass him to you." He held the phone out for China who took it, "Yes, aru?"

Ireland's voice asked warily, "China, was the antidote supposed to... ah... change anything physically?"

China quirked an eyebrow, "Change aru? The antidote should make England feel a little numb but it isn't supposed to do anything else."

He heard Ireland sigh exasperatedly at the other end, "Then I think I must really be crazy... or maybe there is a logical explanation but I can't find it..."

"What happened aru?" China asked, completely at loss at what could have happened. There had been no problem yesterday.

"Err... would you be able to explain to me why Sasana... has... shrunk? No let me rephrase that, could you tell me why Sasana has turned into..."

"...Yes aru?

"A child?"

* * *

"I didn't quite expect this to happen aru." China admitted, scratching his head in confusion. It was a couple hours later, after the meeting was over, and China had gone back to England's house to confirm what Ireland had said about England.

There was no denying the truth, England had definitely reverted back to a child. He simply sat there on the bed, staring blankly into space. Ireland claimed that England had been like that since morning and the only movement he made was blink from time to time.

China frowned. England's condition was nothing short of worrying. Not only had he taken the form of a child but apparently he was unable to move, appeared to be mute, possibly deaf and maybe even blind. Or England simply didn't have the capacity to respond to anything that was around him.

The Asian nation felt England back and chest and noticed how some muscles were relaxed while others were tense. Was England's nervous system completely out of order? He lifted England up and was shocked at how limp England became in his hands, almost like a ragdoll.

He placed England back on the bed carefully, laying him on the back. The child did not even seem to register that China had held him moments ago. It was really difficult to know whether it was the damaged nerves or the damaged brain that caused England's unresponsiveness. Possibly both.

"I don't think this has ever happened to a nation but I have a good idea why this happened aru." China looked thoughtful as he studied England.

"Did the antidote cause this?" Wales asked curiously.

"Certainly not aru. The only culprit here is the poison England used. I have to say I'm impressed, England did not completely underestimate a nation's tolerance against poisons..." China looked at the gathered brothers who all looked slightly surprised by China's stern gaze.

"I would assume that England has used a mixture of poisons and perhaps even venoms in the hopes of creating a mixture fatal enough to kill him. While it failed to do so, the poison did inflict a lot of damage on England's body. The poison has probably severely damaged the nervous system which might explain England's lack of response and I also think it might have damaged his brain. How badly it was damaged will become apparent hopefully soon aru."

"But that doesn't explain why England's a child!" Wales protested.

"It does aru." China replied calmly, "When a nation is injured the body needs time to heal effectively. I believe the damage in England's body is so severe that the body actually reverted to this form so that the body could heal easier. The body of a child is indeed smaller and therefore England might have a better chance at healing."

The brothers still looked unconvinced before Northern Ireland asked, "For how long will England be like this?"

"I think as long as the he needs to heal aru."

"That could take who knows how long." Wales sighed.

* * *

"It's cool you finally decided to come over to my house!" Sealand declared loudly, pleased that Latvia was coming to play with Sealand. Usually Sealand would have brought Latvia to his sea fort but Latvia had a little issue with sea-sickness and since the sea was a bit rough lately, Sealand decided to bring him to his other house instead, which was technically England's but Sealand didn't really care much about that fact.

"But isn't this England's house? Are you sure it's okay for us to be here?" Latvia asked quietly, smiling timidly at the micro-nation's enthusiasm.

"Yeah, but jerk England is either at work or still sick in bed. Either way, he can't tell us what to do." Sealand stated firmly.

"B-but wouldn't England b-be a-angry?" Latvia stuttered nervously, not the type to anger the stronger nations.

Sealand rolled his eyes, "Oh puh-lease Latvia, every time I came here that jerk never threw me out, even when he was really annoyed with me. So stop worrying about it."

Once they were in front of the door Sealand moved the plant pot aside to retrieve the spare key. "Anyway," Sealand added, "if my brother really didn't want anyone to come in he would have since forever hidden his keys somewhere else. But it's always here."

Sealand pushed the door open and strode in, Latvia following shyly. Sealand called out, "Hey jerk England, I'm here!"

When he got no response Sealand smirked and turned to Latvia, "See Latvia, no need to be afraid. He's not here."

"So I suppose he must have recovered from his sickness, right?" Latvia asked quietly.

Sealand shrugged unconcernedly, "Dunno, haven't seen jerk England lately." Sealand went to the living room and flopped on the couch. Latvia followed Sealand but halted in surprise.

"Umm, Sealand?" Latvia asked uncertainly.

"Yeah?"

"Who's that baby over there?" Latvia asked, pointing towards the armchair. Sealand turned around to look and saw an infant sitting there, staring at them with a hint of curiosity. The only piece of clothing the little boy wore was a white t-shirt that was definitely too big for him. Sealand stood up and walked over to the boy.

The little boy continued staring at Sealand with his green eyes. Familiar green eyes. Sealand muttered, "Is he a new colony?"

"How can that be? I haven't heard of a newly discovered land recently." Latvia approached the infant and smiled gently, "But he's really cute. He kind of looks like you and England."

The micro-nation studied the little boy suspiciously, "He really looks a lot like England. Weird, no one told me that England had a new brother." He leant forward and poked the baby. The little one didn't say anything, just continued looking at Sealand and Latvia.

Sealand frowned. This was one weird baby. Sealand blinked in surprise when Latvia reached out and lifted the infant. Latvia cradled the baby gently, a soft smile on his face. Sealand couldn't help but feel amused and a little bit jealous.

"You really like him, huh?"

Latvia looked at Sealand and said, "You know I've always wished for a brother. You're lucky Sealand to have such a big family."

Sealand scoffed, "No way, all they do is fight each other! I don't know them very well to tell the truth but jerk England complains a lot about them."

"Still," Latvia sighed wistfully, "I wished I had brothers as well."

"Hey, do you want to see some of the comic books I have in my room? I have some epic ones!" Sealand proposed brightly. Latvia nodded timidly.

Both stood up and went to Sealand's room. Latvia continued holding the little boy securely in his arms.

The infant yawned and his eyes closed sleepily.

* * *

When Scotland came back home he was surprised to find the spare keys had been taken. Who had come to England's house? Using his own keys Scotland entered the house. The first place he looked was the armchair.

England wasn't there so whoever had come into the house had spotted England first. Scotland then heard faint laughter from upstairs. He walked towards the sound and found the so-called "intruders" in Sealand's room: Sealand and Latvia.

Both were looking at the handful of comics Sealand owned and Sealand was pointing out to Latvia a funny part. Scotland visibly relaxed when he spotted the sleeping form of England, though he hadn't expected to find him in the arms of the Baltic nation.

"Oi, what're you two doing here?" Scotland asked sternly and grinned when both nation and micro-nation jumped at his voice.

"Umm, this is my room?" Sealand answered, attempting to recover from his shock. Scotland had always appeared as a tall and wild nation to Sealand, not that he was ever going to admit that he was intimidated by the Scot.

Attempting to reassert himself, Sealand demanded accusingly, "No one ever told me England had a new colony."

Scotland blinked in surprise and protested, "That's not a colony, it's Eng..." Scotland clamped his mouth shut, realising just what he had been about to say. But it was already too late.

"England? You mean this is England?" Latvia asked, staring at the little boy in shock and astonishment.

"I knew it, he looked too much like England to be somebody else!" Sealand exclaimed loudly which caused England to wake up. But instead of reacting, he just stared around in a confused Matter.

"What did he do? Did he drink a potion?" Sealand asked, staring at England and wondering how he could use this to his advantage. Now was maybe his chance to start his empire, England wouldn't be in any condition to defend himself if Sealand decided to annex England.

"No he didn't." Scotland answered firmly and walked over to Latvia. The nervous Baltic nation understood and quickly handed the infant back to Scotland. Scotland looked sternly at Sealand and warned, "And if I see you giving him that "look" again then I will make sure that you can't get near him."

"What look?" Sealand protested, feigning innocence. Scotland gave him a sceptical look. "Alright," Sealand drilled, "did the fairies turn England into a baby?"

"The fays did nothing to England." Scotland sighed exasperatedly.

"Umm, sir, was England always so quiet when he was little?" Latvia asked quietly, looking at Scotland curiously.

Scotland laughed and replied, "Nope, England was the loudest brat I ever met. At least when I met him he was quite noisy. I think he's silent because of the pois..." Clamping his mouth shut again, Scotland cursed himself. Why was he being such a blabbermouth?

"England swallowed poison? Cool!" Sealand blurted out looking stunned and then burst out laughing. "Wow, jerk England can really be stupid sometimes!"

"Yeah, England can be incredibly stupid." Scotland agreed uneasily, thinking of the reason why England was in this state to start with. He was a bit miffed by Sealand's attitude but he and the other brothers had agreed not to tell the truth to Sealand yet. They didn't know how he would react.

"Err, I think we better get going Sealand." Latvia fidgeted anxiously, looking at his watch. "Sweden might be home already."

Sealand slapped himself on the forehead, "Oh right, I did promise Sweden that I would visit him today. Let's go then!" He stood up and grabbed Latvia by his wrist, dragging him past Scotland and out of the room. Scotland heard Latvia faintly mumble "good-bye" to him.

Scotland smiled grimly, feeling sympathy for the Baltic nation. Sealand was a bundle of energy and Scotland was glad he didn't have to deal with him on a daily basis. He felt pity for those who had to.

Hearing the front door bang shut Scotland breathed out tiredly. It was really stupid of him of letting anything slip about England. He and Wales, Northern Ireland and Ireland had also agreed on this: Until they were sure England was going to recover completely they wouldn't say anything to the other nations. Who knew if one of them would use England's weak state to their advantage such as revenge? England had enough enemies or nations with grudges who might be tempted. England was completely defenceless.

Scotland carried England to his room and placed him on the bed. England wobbled and fell on his back. His muscles were still not able to keep him in a sitting position without having something to lean on. But at least England seemed to be regaining some control on his muscles.

Scotland moved to the side of the bed and was pleased when England turned his head to follow his older brother's movements. That was another improvement, England wasn't so unresponsive as he had been in the beginning.

Gently moving the child so he was propped by his pillow, Scotland sat on the edge of the bed and took England's hand. He squeezed it slightly and was surprised when England responded by faintly squeezing back. It was a small and feeble squeeze but at least that showed that England could feel Scotland's hand!

It had been almost two weeks since the world meeting though, which meant England was healing very slowly. The first few days had been the worst because England was literally a living ragdoll. He would just stare blankly into space and wouldn't respond to anything. Now, although England was improving, Scotland felt that progress was slow.

For a while England had to be transported back and forth between the brothers. Some nations from the outside had attempted to visit the "sick" England and the brothers felt that they couldn't take any chances with anyone. Imagine if some of the more hostile nations heard of England's weak state. It was all too possible for one of them to be tempted to hurt England, to get back at the former British Empire.

So isolation was necessary. After a close call with France who had gone as far as the hall (and had been immediately chased out by Ireland and Scotland) the brothers would change England's location every few nights and only answered the calls of their bosses. After a while the few nations who had attempted to visit England got the hint and stopped trying.

Of course Ireland grumbled that they were being too paranoid and that sooner or later they would have to tell the world what had happened to England. But Scotland and Wales first wanted to be sure that England wouldn't be completely helpless when that time came. So it was important to check every day to see what England recovered.

Scotland sighed and patted England's head lightly. He hoped England would be appreciative of their efforts to protect him. It wasn't exactly an easy task and Scotland had definitely never asked to be England's babysitter. But Wales had taken up England's work in addition to his own and so was far too busy to visit England regularly. And Northern Ireland frankly didn't seem up to the job.

So it was up to Scotland to take care of England and honestly, it was becoming tiring. But that's how things were for now and he had to wait until England became more stable to start considering a different arrangement.

And that was going to take some time.

* * *

Et voila! A new chapter! ^^ (I don't think this chapter needs any translations)

And I finally reveal my intention: yes, this story will focus on Chibirisu a lot! You know those cute stories about England turning into Chibirisu and then someone would take care of him? I absolutely adore those stories but none of my favourites ever seemed to have been completed, at least as far as I can see. So, I've wanted to write that type of story myself. However I had a few problems:

1. How was England going to turn into Chibirisu? The best explanations had been already used in other fanfics, mainly a spell that backfired or went wrong. I really didn't want to reuse one of those explanations, I wanted to make up my own. And the "fairies turned England into a baby" explanation didn't really stick with me.

2. How was the story going to continue? What kind of plot? How was I going to make this an interesting story? How was I going to finish it?

There were a lot of problems with the story and truthfully, this story has been roughly in development since February before I started any kind of writing. I was mainly trying to figure those questions above out. How did I resolve it? Well here's the interesting part: This story actually used to be two seperate sotries!

Yup, one was called "Reversal" and the other remained untitled (never thought up a title for it) but I did jot down notes on them before I considered merging them. "Reversal" had a plot, but I really had no idea how to start or finish the story. The untitled story had a beginning and an ending, but no plot whatsoever. So, I merged them. :) The beginning of "Behind the Mask" actually comes from the untitled story which was a very dark story.

The untitled story originally had England fall genuinely sick but the sickness worsened and with England, his country stopped living, like a whole organism shutting down. In the end England was killed by the nations (or by "something", I never made it clear to myself what) in a desperate attempt to stop the sickness from spreading out and killing their lands as well. Yeah pretty miserable, huh? "Reversal" on the other hand was the Chibirisu story, a fluffy and adorable story about little England and the other nations. I had a vague idea of the plot but I didn't know how to kick it off really. So when I decided to merge them, I took the dark beginning of the untitled story, strenghthened the plot of the Chibirisu story since the darkness of the first chapter did affect the whole plot and finally I could find a fitting and happy ending for my Chibirisu story.

For now everything is settled in my head and I'm doing my best to write everything down. :D I feel a bit sad for letting the dark story go, not because I like angstiness but because it actually had a couple of good ideas for a story. Maybe I might take a few of those ideas and write another fanfic with it but school is too demanding for that. Sorry, I think I've gone off track but I felt like sharing this piece of trivia of the development of the story with you. ^^; If you're reading this I heartily thank you for having read such a long author comment, I never know when I should just stop writing.

Alright, I'll stop now. I'll try to get the next chapter up soon! ;)


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry for taking so long, this chapter did take me some time and school has been anything but unreasonable lately. I got homework stuffed down my throat every single day and I'm really not taking the stress well. Still, don't think I'll give up on the story. ^^

So, this chapter probably has the greatest variety of characters and interactions. I don't think I will have the oppurtunity to do something like that again, this chapter is like it is because firstly I wanted to see how I could write the other Hetalia characters and their interactions with others and secondly this chapter shows just how powerful gossip is. In some places I actually ran in danger of making this chapter way too long so I ended up cutting a few scenes that didn't appear to contribute much. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: Hetalia and the characters don't belong to me.

* * *

Chapter 7

After walking silently for while, Sealand finally burst out, "Did you hear that Latvia? Jerk England actually swallowed a poison that caused him to shrink! Can you believe that?"

Latvia shook his head, "I don't think I would have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. But England is small so I think it really happened."

"Yeah, it's really crazy right? Too bad Scotland was there or else I could have started my empire..." Sealand trailed off when Latvia suddenly gave him an uncharacteristic venemous glare.

"Hey, just joking!" Sealand protested, surprised by his friend's reaction. Latvia quickly reverted to his normal self and smiled although a warning glint remained in his purple eyes. Sealand decided that maybe talking about starting an empire around Latvia wasn't such a good idea. It probably reminded the Baltic nation of the time he was with Russia.

"Well, I have to go this way." Latvia motioned with his head towards east and Sealand stopped. True, he had to go a bit north now to get to Sweden's house.

"So, I'll see ya around okay?" Sealand grinned brightly and Latvia nodded shyly. They both went their ways, Sealand to Sweden's house and Latvia was dropping by Estonia's house first before going to his.

* * *

Night had fallen and Sealand and Sweden were eating dinner at Sweden's place with Sealand chattering all the time while Sweden simply nodded his head now and again. He was used to the micro-nation's chattering despite the fact that most of the things Sealand talked about were not of great importance.

"-and oh yeah, did you know my jerk brother turned into a baby?" Sealand asked cheerfully, his mouth still full.

Sweden almost dropped his fork in surprise and he looked at Sealand sharply, not sure if he had just misheard. "Wh't?" Sweden muttered uncertainly.

"Can you imagine that? Jerk England is now a baby! Ha, the irony of it and-" Sealand continued undeterred while Sweden was still trying to recover from his shock. A nation could turn into a baby?

Hmm, that might be interesting for Finland.

* * *

"My w'fe, did you kn'w th't Engl'nd turned into a ch'ld?"

"Sweden, how many times do I have to tell you that I am not your wi-" Finland stopped abruptly when he realised what Sweden had just told him.

"Eh, what did you say Sweden?" Finland finally asked, convinced he hadn't been listening correctly. There was no way this could be true...

"Engl'nd turned into a ch'ld." Sweden repeated slowly, his face expressionless. Finland laughed nervously but trailed off when he saw Sweden looking at him confusedly.

"You cannot be serious Sweden..." Finland argued weakly but Sweden nodded firmly.

"B-but how is that possible Sweden? I've never heard of a nation turn into a baby." Finland stammered, his eyes still unbelieving.

Sweden shrugged unperturbed, "Not s're, Seal'nd told me 'bout it. M'ybe Engl'nd's fairies did th't to him."

Finland stared at Sweden in complete shock, trying to digest this bit of information. Sealand, though a loud, energetic and sometimes demanding micro-nation, was never the type to bend the truth or to exaggerate his stories. But that would mean that it was true...?

The Finn ran a hand through his hair. This whole thing sounded too crazy. A nation turning into a baby? Now nothing else could surprise him.

* * *

"Hey Tino, what are you doing here?" Estonia called out from among the crowd, pleasantly surprised to see his friend here today.

The Finn smiled brightly as he approached the Estonian, "Well, you know how much I like flowers so when I heard of your Flower Festival I just had to come over and see it."

"Yeah but I never expected to see you here in Tallinn, you should have given me a call!" Estonia smiled, proud of the festivals his people organised. It always attracted so many people to this land, even Finland visited quite often when he had the time.

Both walked past the many gardens, admiring and commenting on them. It was a beautiful sunny day and both nations enjoyed their free time to their fullest. How often were they able to do something together without it related to their task as a nation? Not often enough.

It was then Estonia beheld another sight that completely astonished him. He came to an abrupt halt and literally gaped. Finland stopped beside Estonia and blinked in surprise.

"Isn't that Toris and Natalia over there?" Finland asked finally, staring at the two nations who were standing further away from Estonia and Finland. Lithuania was pointing out some flowers and smiling at Belarus. Belarus herself didn't seem much different from the usual though she was giving Lithuania's arm a calculating gaze.

A blonde-haired person appeared between Lithuania and Belarus and gave the female nation a hidden glare. Lithuania remained completely oblivious and continued talking.

"Feliks is also with them? I wonder if they are also here for the Flower Festival." Finland speculated, observing the other three nations. Estonia shrugged and started walking towards them and Finland followed.

"Hey look, that's Eduard and Tino over there! Isn't that, like, totally awesome, I didn't think we would see them with all these people!" Poland exclaimed enthusiastically as he caught sight of the two approaching nations. Lithuania looked up surprised but then broke into a joyful smile.

"Well I certainly wasn't expecting any of you here today." Estonia chuckled when they had reached the three other nations. "Are you all here for the festival?"

Lithuania smile turned sheepish and he explained, "N-Natalia once mentioned that she liked flowers and I remembered that there was that Flower Festival at your place and I thought she might like it." Belarus looked at Lithuania briefly but returned her attention to the flowers in front of her, her face remaining impassive.

"What about you Feliks?" Finland asked, turning to the nation who was keeping a watchful eye on Belarus.

Poland looked surprised by the question but quickly responded, "Umm, I like, totally am into flowers too so I decided to, like, tag along!" He tried giving Finland a convincing grin, he definitely was not going to admit the real reason he was here. Not that he was against Lithuania dating girls but when it came to Belarus, well let's just say Poland wanted to avoid dealing with another set of Lithuania's broken fingers.

"Hey, let's like go to a coffee house or something!" Poland proposed excitedly. He was frankly getting tired of all the flowers and it would be nice to just sit with the other nations and to get updated with the latest gossip.

Funnily enough the others agreed with Poland although Belarus did not really say anything, not even a nod. She continued staring at the flowers silently and Poland decided he had to keep a better eye on her, no way was he letting the creepy female nation hurt his best friend!

Five minutes later they were all seated at a table outside the coffee house, all chatting amiably (except Belarus of course) with each other.

Estonia then remembered an odd thing Latvia had told him yesterday. "Did you know that apparently England turned himself into a baby?"

Both Lithuania and Poland looked at Estonia in complete and utter shock while Belarus uncharacteristically stopped brooding silently and looked at Estonia in interest.

Finland nodded solemnly, "Yes, Sweden told me about it yesterday."

"Wait, wait, you're like telling us that England actually turned himself into a baby? Are you, like , joking?" Poland's laugh sounded a little bit too forced while Lithuania's smile came out more like a grimace. The only change on Belarus' face was her eyes, they were no longer distant and bored. Her look resembled closely to that of a hawk that had just spotted a potential prey.

"According to Latvia, both he and Sealand saw England and he was a baby. At first I didn't believe him but when you think of all the magic England messes with then I suppose it shouldn't be so surprising." Estonia shrugged, magic and spells not being his domain.

The group was silent, all lost in their thoughts.

_I, like, totally have to tell someone about this! Like, how many times does this kind of thing happen? Oh, I could tell Veneziano! _Poland pondered eagerly, always an enthusiastic gossiper.

_This might be of interest for big brother Russia..._Belarus thought deviously although she was careful to keep her expression neutral.

To break the silence Lithuania finally asked, "Did anyone hear about the next World meeting? Apparently they changed the date..."

* * *

"Ve, Germany, Germany, Poland told me something interesting yesterday!" Italy exclaimed as he bounced into Germany's house.

The German nation looked up and asked tiredly, "When doesn't Poland tell you something interesting?"

Italy stopped bouncing and seemed to try to think up an answer. Germany hastily added, "That was a rhetorical question Italy, you don't have to answer it." To think it took him several weeks to get Italy to answer his questions... Germany sighed.

"Do you want me to tell you what Poland told me?" Italy asked curiously, cocking his head to one side.

"I have a feeling you will tell me anyway..." Germany muttered under his breath.

"Ve, Poland told me that England turned into a baby!" The Italian declared excitedly. Germany looked at Italy in complete shock.

Then he inquired wearily, "Italy, were you really paying attention to Poland when you heard that?"

Italy nodded, "Sí, I was listening to Poland when he said that." Germany looked at Italy with some scepticism. Surely Italy must have been distracted when he supposedly "heard" that.

"England is now a baby? No kidding?" Prussia guffawed as he strolled into the room. He added unbelieving, "Seriously, why have I not heard of that?"

"Ve, it must have happened recently because many nations don't seem to know about it." Italy shrugged.

Prussia's eyes glinted with glee, "Wait, are you telling me hardly anyone has heard of it yet? Toll, I can't wait to tell the others about it!"

"Prussia, please don't tell me you actually believe this... gossip." Germany did not like the look in his older brother's eyes at all. He hadn't seen it for a while and usually it meant that Germany was going to have to go after the former nation again.

"Ach come on West, almost everything that Poland says is true. If he says England has turned into a baby then he must have. Anyway, England has a bad habit of playing around with magic. I'll not be surprised if he tried a spell and it backfired on him." Prussia looked thoughtful, already thinking of who he should tell. It wasn't everyday that the former British Empire really messed up on his spells after all.

"Ve, I wonder who England was trying to turn into a baby." Italy wondered innocently. Prussia's eyes widened in realization. True, if the spell England was working on backfired and turned him into a baby then the spell was intended for someone...

Prussia's grin almost turned malicious, "I have a pretty good idea who..."

* * *

"Ah, I'm glad this is fini!" France declared loudly as he and Greece walked out of the meeting. They had been in there for a few hours just because their bosses had something important to discuss.

Important enough that the personification of the countries themselves had to be present. What a joke! It turned out that it wasn't even that important but as courtesy demanded, both France and Greece had to stay.

That didn't stop Greece from falling asleep during the meeting and getting away with it. The world could be sometimes so cruel. While France was still deep in thought he remembered something.

"Hey Greece?" France looked at Greece to check if the Mediterranean nation was paying attention to him. "Do you keep up much with the talk that has been going on among the nations?"

Greece looked at France silently before answering calmly, "I don't really listen to the gossip of the nations. There is always something new to gossip about but in the end it is never different from the others."

France grinned triumphantly. _So he hasn't heard about it yet... _France chuckled, "Well, sorry mon chère but lately there's been an interesting "gossip" going around."

He paused for dramatic effect but when Greece made no attempt to ask about it France finally said, "Apparently England tried to turn America into a child and the spell backfired on him! Now he is a child! Can you imagine the irony of it?"

Greece took in the information and nodded with a bit of reluctance, "That doesn't happen very often..."

"Of course not!" France laughed out loud. "I really can't believe our grumpy Angleterre turned into un enfant! But from what I can remember he used to be cute..."

"Don't go Spain on the little one." Greece warned quietly.

"Don't go quoi?" France looked stunned but then burst out laughing again. "Ah Greece, you really kill me sometimes!"

Greece quirked an eyebrow, "I do?" But France was already walking away and mumbling, "Hmm, I wonder who else I can tell who hasn't been told by Prusse yet... Espagne is out of question... Danemark maybe... no..."

The calm nation watched the other walk off and sighed. This story was spreading out like a wild-fire. He might as well tell Japan about this.

* * *

"Hey Canada, I brought you your favourite ice cream!"

Canada turned around surprised but broke into a smile, "Hello Cuba, it's nice to see you didn't confuse me with America...again."

Scratching behind his head sheepishly Cuba said, "Ah well, I kinda have to remind myself that to recognize you from far I just need to look if you have that damned Nantucket that that American bastard has."

Canada smiled warmly, he really did enjoy the ice cream Cuba kept bringing with him every time he visited Canada. But usually there was a reason behind it.

"What brings you here anyway?" Canada inquired curiously, looking at Cuba with questioning eyes.

"Eh, you would not be really happy with the reason I came here for but alright I'll tell ya. It's about this gossip I've been hearing for the last couple of days." Cuba twiddled his thumbs, definitely not trying to meet Canada's disapproving gaze.

"Cuba, I told you I'm not interested in all that gossip. Most of it is always silly or immature." Canada huffed in annoyance. Besides, most of the gossip was always focused on the popular countries. One of them happened to be his brother. Canada really didn't need to listen to all the gossip about the countries, especially when he was clearly ignored.

"Aww, come one Canada, I came here to ask about a gossip, not to talk about it." Cuba protested lightly.

Canada arched his eyebrow but motioned Cuba to continue regardless. "Alright, anyway I was jus' wondering whether the gossip about England was true or not."

"What gossip?" Canada asked confusedly.

"The one about how England tried turning America back into a child with all that crazy magic but the spell backfired and now England is a child." Cuba replied casually, looking at Canada expectantly.

Canada stared at Cuba wordlessly. England had turned into... what?

"Er, I-I didn't hear anything about it. I can't confirm whether it's true or not." Canada stuttered, feeling a bit uneasy. How long has this gossip been going around? How long had Canada remained unaware of it?

"Who did you hear it from?" Canada asked finally.

Cuba shrugged, "Some nations here and there but I think I first heard it from Spain. Too bad you don't know anything about it."

"N-no, indeed not." Canada replied.

"Maybe we'll hear more about it at the World meeting then. It's at your place this time, right? I heard that they moved it to a week earlier."

Canada could just nod and mumble "Yes, yes". Cuba just grinned, completely oblivious to Canada's shock.

"Well, I'll see you then I guess. Adiós!" Cuba waved before walking away. Canada only managed a half-hearted wave before sinking back into his thoughts.

Canada had tried a couple weeks ago to visit England. But he had found the house empty and no sign of England. Not knowing where England could be he had tried to contact one of his brothers but oddly enough none of them had answered his calls.

Was what Cuba had said the reason why he hadn't been able to see England? But why was there gossip about that now? It had been almost two weeks since England was declared too sick to come to the meeting.

How did that connect with the story that England had tried to curse America? Canada sighed. None of this was making sense.

Suddenly a thought occurred to Canada.

Was America aware of this whole business?

* * *

America looked at his brother in confusion. "Huh, what do you mean by if I annoyed England lately?"

Canada repeated his question with strained patience, "Before England fell sick did you do something to annoy him?"

"Uh, not that I can remember... I did talk with him the day before the meeting though." America wasn't sure why in the world Canada was asking about England. He was just sick after all...

"How did he sound?" Canada pressed.

"Just tired. I really said nothing to piss him off." America quickly defended. After a pause he asked, "Why are you asking?"

The other nation rubbed his temples tiredly. "I... I heard some gossip lately, not that I listen to it, but this particular gossip disturbed me. Have you heard the gossip about England lately?"

America just looked at Canada blankly and shook his head slowly. Canada explained, "From what I heard from Cuba, England tried turning you back into an infant but the spell backfired on him. Now it's England who is a baby instead."

The American blinked and burst out laughing. "I can't believe England, he really tried doing that? I knew he wasn't over the whole "me becoming independent" issue but I didn't think he was that desperate!"

Canada frowned, "I don't know... it does sound like something England might try to do but why was he declared sick? And why couldn't we visit him?"

"No idea, maybe Iggy was embarrassed and hid from us and had his brothers tell everyone he was sick." America shrugged, not seeming the least concerned about England. It was his fault after all if his spell backfired on him.

Canada said uneasily, "I wouldn't be so quick to believe in those gossips. You know how much the truth tends to get distorted. I'm just a bit worried about England..."

America rolled his eyes, "Chill Canada, no need to get worked up over that old guy. I'm sure he'll be there at the next meeting and we can all have a laugh about how useless he is at his magic."

"Maybe, maybe..." Canada murmured and started to walk away.

"See ya soon!" America called after him, to which he got a faint "yes" from the quiet nation.

Turning back to his house America chuckled. The world would sure be boring without England and his odd antics. What just slightly disturbed America was the fact that England was still bitter about the Revolution. Why wouldn't England just let go finally?

Why did he care so much?

* * *

Despite the tiredness of having to deal with the extra weight of work, Wales decided he should maybe pay a visit to England. Right now England was only seeing Scotland and from time to time Northern Ireland and Wales felt a little guilty for being the only country in the UK who wasn't visiting England regularly.

True, he did have more work now than the others but it was still Wales' duty to also check up on England and see what the Brit was recovering. Unfortunately it was already quite late, night was starting to fall already. Wales knew that Scotland had passed by earlier so he expected that England would be already asleep.

Wales entered the house and closed the door slowly behind him. He locked the door securely and then made his way up the stairs to England's room. Through the failing light of the day he could see that England was lying curled up on the bed.

However when he got closer Wales noticed that England's eyes were open. England was watching Wales' movements but made no attempt to move.

The Welsh nation sighed and scolded half-heartedly, "England, how are you still awake at this time? You should be asleep by now, your body needs a lot of rest." Scotland had been reporting on the unusual times that England fell asleep and that he seemed to wake up more often towards the end of the day. It wasn't a good idea for England to become nocturnal. Was he waking up during the nights which caused him to sleep more during the day? But why was that happening?

Wales slowly became aware of some movement. He snapped out of his thoughts and watched in surprise as England tried with great difficulty to sit up. It seemed to be costing the Brit a lot of energy to accomplish such a simple feat and for a moment Wales felt some pity for England.

Shaking his head sadly, Wales helped England to sit up by propping a pillow against the small nation's back. Wales then sat on the bed and stared at England. The little nation seemed tired, it didn't look like he had slept a lot lately. But England resisted his tiredness, trying to keep his eyes open with difficulty.

In the beginning it had been a bit of an issue for the brothers to get England to fall asleep. It took them a while to realize that they physically had to close England's eye-lids as the small infant seemed to have forgotten how to even fall asleep. The blinking reflex had remained intact in England's brain but the association with closing one's eyes to sleep had been lost.

And now it seemed like England was having another problem with sleeping but Wales assumed that there had to be another reason for it.

"Why won't you sleep feinedd brawd?" Wales murmured quietly, looking at England as the younger brother seemed to resist his tiredness. No matter how long or hard Wales stared into these familiar green eyes, he could detect no signs that England was understanding him or was even thinking. Was the concept of thought even possible for him?

So, how to make England fall asleep? Sleeping pills was out of question, Wales couldn't trust what effect other chemicals would have on England in his already vulnerable state. Anyway, England was really close to falling asleep, he just needed a last push.

Suddenly a thought struck Wales and the Welsh nation became a bit embarrassed by the idea his mind was proposing him. He could do that but... he was Wales for goodness sake! Not a nanny or something of the sort!

And yet he couldn't disagree with the logic behind the idea. Lullabies had a soothing effect on the children and England, in the current state that he was, was no different from a child. Maybe he should... besides, no one else was there to hear Wales except England.

Picking a good lullaby was no problem with Wales, he quickly settled on one of his favourite lullabies, "Suo Gân". He picked England up from the bed and cradled him gently in his arms. England blinked a few times and stared up at Wales but his eyes remained blank, uncomprehending. Wales took a deep breath and began to sing softly.

"Huna blentyn yn fy mynwes,

Clyd a chynnes ydyw hon;

Breichiau mam sy'n dynn amdanat,

Cariad mam sy dan fy mron;

Ni cha' dim amharu'th gyntun,

Ni wna undyn â thi gam..."

While he sang Wales rocked England slowly. The little nation relaxed in Wales' arms, his eyes drooping more and more.

"Huna'n dawel, annwyl blentyn,

Huna'n fwyn ar fron dy fam."

England closed his eyes and let out a soft breath, finally allowing Wales' voice to lull him to a sleep.

"Pam yr wyt yn awr yn gwenu..."

Wales paused and looked at England silently. The Brit was breathing evenly, his body completely relaxed. Like this England really reminded Wales of a little child who simply had been too stubborn to fall asleep.

The Welsh nation couldn't hold back a brotherly smile that appeared on his face. He quietly sang the two last lines of the lullaby to the silent night.

"Gwena'n dawel yn fy mynwes

Ar yr engyl gwynion draw."

_Angels smiling, have no fear, _

_Holy angels guard your rest._

* * *

And here ya go, the 7th chapter! :3 Hope you like the last scene RedHatMeg, it came out pretty much out of the blue for me. I really could only fit your request here, I wouldn't have had any other chance to put this in. And fellow readers, the lullaby is Welsh ("Suo Gân" literally meaning lullaby) and I used the Welsh lyrics, despite not understanding any Welsh myself. But I thought the last two lines were too beautiful to leave just in Welsh so I included the translated English as well. For the rest of the translation you can go here: http :/ en. wikipedia. org/ wiki/ Suo_G%C3%A2n and for those who want to hear the actual lullaby can either go here: http :/ www. youtube. com/ watch?v=LYGu3HlcooA&feature=related or here: http :/ www. youtube. com/ watch?v=yyf059psVew&feature=related (the boy sings it)

It's really a beautiful song, even though I can't understand it. :) I always thought the Welsh language sounded very gutteral (being nicknamed the "dragon language") but it doesn't sound as gutteral as I believed. Still, although it is a Celtic language I can't find any similarities between Welsh and Irish.

Oh, and the scene with Estonia and the others in Talinn? Was also pretty much out of the blue. The reason why they call each other by human names is simply by pure logic: How would you react to someone who is calling out, "Look, there's Finland and Estonia!" ... Errr, I don't think I need to elaborate. X) The human names will only be ever used in this story when the nations are outside among humans, otherwise I believe that the nation's name is their "true name". Their human name is simply a way to mingle among the humans.

Okay, here are the translations for this story:

Toll = Great, excellent (German)

fini = finished (French)

un enfant = a child (French)

quoi = what (French)

Adiós = Bye (Spanish)

feinedd brawd = little brother (Welsh)

Rest of Welsh translated on Wikipedia. I don't know how much of a habit I will make of having various nations put tidbits of their own language when they are talking. Maybe not too much. ^^; Before anyone askes, I speak five languages but Welsh and Spanish aren't among them so you can expect mistakes in those areas.

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! :D I'll try to update as soon as I can!


	8. Chapter 8

Alright, here's the new chapter! :D But seriously, this chapter just kept getting longer and longer... does anyone know that feeling about wanting to squeeze everything into one chapter and yet it feels there's too much in it? School work got worse but I will try to continue writing this story. I don't know when I'll have the next chapter up...

By the way, time to say goodbye to England's brothers. This is their last chapter as the central characters of the story, now other characters will move in and take the spotlight. I thank everyone for having readily accepted them, I was very nervous since I always see people writing about how much they dislike OCs. :)

Okay, let's go!

* * *

Chapter 8

"Okay, who blabbed?"

Ireland looked sternly around the table where the rest of the brothers were sitting. England was sitting on Scotland's lap, not seeming to understand what was going on at all.

Northern Ireland quickly declared, "Don't blame me, I said nothing!"

Ireland looked at him sceptically, to which the younger brother glared back defiantly. He wasn't going to have the blame pushed on him!

"Uh, instead of trying to figure out who blabbed we should think more on what we should do now that the whole world seems to know what happened to England." Scotland proposed apprehensively, feeling guilty.

"A thiarcais, have you even heard those... those blasted rumours?" Ireland burst out angrily. "Do you know how many ridiculous ones I've heard until now? Most say that Sasana drank a potion, that the sióga turned him into a baby, that he was messing with magic or, the best I've heard, he tried cursing Meiriceá! I've heard other more ridiculous versions as well but I could go on forever. Do you know how annoying it is to have all those nations come up to you and say such garbage to you?"

Wales nodded darkly, "I've had my fair share as well. Tell me Scotland, was it maybe you who said something?"

The Scot paled and stuttered nervously, "M-me... s-say something?" Wales stared at him warningly before Scotland sighed, "W-well it... it was just a slip..."

Northern Ireland cast a glance back at Ireland and hissed triumphantly, "Told you so!"

"Bí i do thost!" Ireland snapped and folded his arms angrily.

"Well it's no use to hide England anymore." Wales stated slowly, looking thoughtful. "So what do we do now?"

"What else is there to do? We'll have to bring him to the meeting and clear up all that ridiculous nonsense. Otherwise the other nations will not stop pestering us about it." Ireland said sullenly.

"But England can barely sit without having to lean on to something! He's not recovering quickly enough!" Scotland protested, wrapping his arms tighter around England. The infant did not even squirm though it was evident that he did not enjoy being squeezed like that.

"Anyway, what are we supposed to say? We can't simply say that England was feeling suicidal." Northern Ireland asked while he nudged Scotland to point out England's discomfort.

"I think we'll just say that England was really sick because of poisoning. Let's hope they don't try to pry too much after that point." Wales proposed morosely.

Scotland sighed, "At least we have a few days left before the meeting. I'm just worried about England, you'd think he would have recovered more in two weeks. He seems to have lost all his memories. He doesn't really react to anything."

England stared up at him and then with great difficulty looked around him. His face remained expressionless, only his eyes betraying some curiosity to what was happening around him. Not that he understood what was going on.

"At least he reacts to sounds and seems to see us. It's actually not such a bad change that he is mute, we don't have to hear him complaining all the time." Wales smiled slightly.

"Let's just hope that he continues to recover." Ireland ruffled England's hair to which the child weakly lifted an arm as if to push Ireland's hand away.

Hope... now that was something the brothers really needed.

Especially with the upcoming meeting.

* * *

Curiosity.

That had always been... the _faiblesse _of France. Even in the early days when the Roman Empire was around, France's curiosity knew no boundaries. France of course had fun spreading the news about England turning into an infant but there were some questions that remained unanswered.

England had changed physically but had he mentally changed as well? Did he think now like a child or was he the same grumpy Englishman? The gossip of the other nations failed to answer France's questions so he did the most obvious thing.

He went to England's house.

Getting the spare keys was easy. They were always at the same place, even England's brothers didn't bother hiding them somewhere else now that they had finally stopped moving England around. France slipped quietly into the house, trying to hear whether any of England's brothers were around.

Not that he was afraid of them, simply wary. And lately they had become quite protective of England. Of course now France understood their reasons but he believed they were unjustified. He was the big brother France after all!

Not hearing a sound France walked to England's room. He pushed the door quietly open and went into the room. When he finally saw England he couldn't help but smile. Little England was sitting on the bed staring at France with slight curiosity.

Francis melted a bit at the sight. England reminded him so much of an angel. The only thing that clashed was the red T-shirt which was too large for England.

France approached the bed slowly, wondering if England recognised him. When he was closer he saw England's green eyes. They showed no recognition. So, how far back had England gone? What could England remember?

But something felt wrong. The way England looked at him, as if he had never seen another nation before. France hesitantly reached out and ruffled England's hair, knowing from memory that little England hated that and would always start yelling at him.

This time though the child just leaned slightly away and raised one arm as if to push France's hand away. His face did not betray any annoyance, just slight discomfort. France frowned slightly. England's movements were slow and sluggish, something completely uncharacteristic of England, even when he was younger.

Picking England up, France scrutinized him. From appearance this was definitely England but the problem was he didn't act like England. Not once could France remember the island being so silent and just staring at him like that.

"What is wrong mon petit lapin?" France murmured quietly, staring into England's vivid green eyes. The child did not even seem to understand the words. France couldn't help but laugh weakly, "The spell really messed you up Angleterre, I hardly recognize you."

"Wha-what are you doing here?"

France turned around in surprise to see Northern Ireland at the door, glaring at him with a little mixture of surprise and wariness. France blinked slowly.

"How did you get into the house?" Northern Ireland demanded angrily, slightly unnerved to find the Frenchman here and holding England.

"The spare keys...?" France offered uncertainly, admittedly stunned by the younger nation's aggressiveness. At least it was not Ireland and Scotland, they were harder to handle.

"Can you put... England down?" Northern Ireland asked, attempting to sound calm but France heard the uneasiness in the younger nation's voice. He really didn't seem used to be talking to other nations.

"Pourquoi?" France asked teasingly and made no move to let go of England. France decided he should have some fun with Northern Ireland.

The island nation flushed angrily, "I don't speak French you idiot! Will just let go of England already?"

France couldn't help but smirk. Northern Ireland really acted like England, if only he had blond hair instead of red then France would have mistaken him for the Brit. France got a devilish smile. Now let's see how he would react to this...

"Ah, you don't speak French, the most beautiful language of the world? You wound me so!" France gasped dramatically but he did put England back on the bed.

Then he turned to Northern Ireland and sauntered over to him. "I believe we have never introduced ourselves properly before. I'm France, otherwise known by my human name as Francis Bonnefoy."

"...I'm Northern Ireland and my human name is Patrick Ryan-Kirkland." Northern Ireland replied carefully, wary of the French nation. France's smile was starting to creep him out.

"Ryan-Kirkland, hmm? Interesting combination I have to say..." France commented smoothly, wrapping an arm around Northern Ireland's shoulders. France felt the other stiffen but made no other movement. Northern Ireland was too flustered to say anything in response.

"So, who do you prefer? Angleterre or Irlande?" France purred into Northern Ireland's ear, grinning when the other nation shivered. Northern Ireland's face was red and while he had no idea what France wanted from him he certainly did not like this one bit! He suddenly squeaked when France's arm slid down to wrap around his waist.

He spun around and violently pushed France away from him.

"S-Stop that you p-pervert!" Northern Ireland stammered, blushing furiously. He slowly backed away till he stood in front of the bed, glaring at France.

"Well mon cher, you didn't say anything before." France pointed out lightly, still smiling. He hadn't gotten as far as he had wanted but then again he was dealing with England's brother. He was bound to react just like England. Still, Northern Ireland's red face made it worthwhile.

"Get out of here or else..." Northern Ireland growled dangerously, taking a defensive position. France blinked at him and laughed lightly.

"Or else what mon cher? You will call your older brothers for help?" France sneered, enjoying as the other nation scowled darkly.

"I can take care of myself just fine without them. Now go away you blasted frog!" Northern Ireland spat venomously while France continued smiling in amusement. But France knew when he couldn't get more fun out of this situation. And he really didn't feel like meeting the other brothers. So he turned to leave the room.

Before he left France looked behind him and advised, "If you are bringing Angleterre to the next meeting then get clothes more his size. If you go to his attic you might find something like Amérique's old clothes when he was smaller. Angleterre would certainly appreciate that more than a T-shirt which is too large for him. Au revoir then!" With that he was gone.

Northern Ireland stared after him and muttered darkly, "No wonder England hates him so much." But then he thought about France's advice. England's attic? Northern Ireland walked out of the room and went to the attic.

England could do nothing but stay on the bed. He looked slowly around in mild confusion but then curled up to sleep. There was nothing else he could do really.

* * *

France was up early and was one of the first nations to arrive at the meeting. But not by much as soon many nations were filing in. Surprisingly this might be the first time where all the nations were on time. Of course, France had to consider that everyone was curious to see England. They all wanted a confirmation and many also were waiting for the real reason why England was now a child.

A few minutes before the meeting started, they finally arrived. Ireland and Wales walked in first and the Welsh nation held little England. Scotland and Northern Ireland trailed behind them. Taking two extra chairs they all sat down together at Ireland's and England's designated places.

There was a tense silence among the brothers as the nations around them stopped talking to look at them curiously. Many craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the English nation who was sitting on Wales' lap. There was some hushed whisperings among the nations and Wales instinctively held England closer to his chest.

"So, might we finally have an explanation as to why Angleterre is like this?" France drawled, looking at the island nations in amusement. None of them seemed to enjoy being the centre of attention of all these nations. Ireland scowled and stood up.

"I don't know where the hell all those wild rumours came from but they're all wrong as far as I'm concerned." Ireland declared firmly, giving a challenging glare at all the possible culprits.

"That still doesn't answer the question, da?" Russia murmured quietly, smiling his trademark smile which caused many nations in near proximity of him to edge away quickly. Russia looked a bit too happy. Then again it was a known fact that Russia didn't like England.

Ireland shifted uncomfortably on his feet and replied, "Sasana was sick..."

"There's, like, no way that a sickness did that to England!" Poland scoffed loudly and nudged Lithuania, asking, "Don't you, like, totally agree Liet?"

The Baltic nation jumped a little bit and instead of answering, inquired, "What was England sick of?"

At that many nations started shouting at the same time.

"He wasn't sick!"

"I tell you, it was a curse that backfired!"

"The fairies did that to him!"

"England totally drank a potion!"

"It must have been karma!"

"Shut up everyone, it was poison!" Ireland tried to yell over the voices of all the nations. Unfortunately the answer did not satisfy the nations.

"Isn't poison and potion the same thing?"

"He finally got food poisoning?"

"Ha, he tried poisoning someone and that backfired?"

"The poison-"

Northern Ireland finally snapped at the useless chatter of the nations. He sprung to his feet and yelled furiously, "ENGLAND INJECTED POISON INTO HIMSELF YOU IDIOTS!"

"NORTH!" Ireland, Scotland and Wales exclaimed warningly but it was too late, the truth was already out.

A heavy silence fell upon all the nations in the room. Many stared at Northern Ireland in shock and surprise. The younger nation reddened in the face and sunk into his seat. He hadn't meant to blurt the truth out like that.

No word was uttered at all for several minutes. All nations now understood the severity of the situation: Had England really attempted...

"Selbstmord? Are you saying England tried committing... suicide?" Germany finally asked uneasily, being the first to find his voice.

Suicide. The word echoed uncomfortably throughout the room of the silent nations. No one had expected that answer. No one had ever considered the possibility of a nation feeling suicidal. That simply had never happened among the currently existing nations. And certainly no one had expected England to be the suicidal type.

France was completely and utterly speechless. England had been for centuries his rival, his worst enemy. Every time France had struck England down the island nation would rise again, stronger and more vicious. So where had this suddenly come from? What had caused England to attempt the unthinkable for a nation?

Looking over to the American nation, France realized that perhaps America was more shocked than he was. America was staring dumbfoundedly at Northern Ireland, his mouth agape. He tried to say something but no sound came out. France's suspicion was confirmed. It took a lot to render America absolutely wordless.

At some point some of the nations started recovering.

"But how...?"

"England would really try...?"

"I can't believe that...?"

"Why...?"

"Listen up everyone aru!"

Everyone turned their attention to China who had stood up. China stared at all the nations sternly before continuing, "I know we are all shocked about that but what has happened has happened. The poison England used on himself damaged his body a lot which is why England's body has reverted to the form of a child so that it can repair itself more effectively."

China paused and looked over at England. The island nation was looking slowly around him but seemed completely lost. China continued, "From what I can assume the poison must have damaged England's brain as well so I doubt he remembers anything at all, maybe he can't even say who he is. But all England needs is the time for his body to repair and hopefully with the time his memories will start coming back. Now though, I think we should all concentrate on the meeting instead." The Asian nation then sat down and motioned to Germany to start the meeting.

Germany nodded, still looking a little perturbed as he stood up, "So today we are going to discuss about this economical crisis that has hit us all and..."

Though most nations returned their full attention to Germany and the meeting, a handful of nations couldn't help but wonder about England's actions. Anyone would agree that the nation who was the most disturbed was America.

He attempted to pay attention to the meeting but he kept looking back at England worriedly. America's unusual silence and lack of enthusiasm affected the meeting more than anything else.

For perhaps the first time ever, the meeting actually made some progress and no one messed around. But somehow no one could really enjoy that.

* * *

It was lunch break and almost everyone had left the meeting room to get something to eat. The nations were chatting among themselves again, the shock having almost worn off most of the nations. Of course there were still a handful of nations who were still not completely over it.

Canada saw England and his brothers just outside the meeting room, the three elder brothers talking angrily with Northern Ireland. The youngest shuffled his feet uneasily, not meeting anyone's gaze. England was still held by Wales and was sleeping.

Interest and curiosity getting the better of him, Canada walked towards them. They immediately fell silent and Canada attempted to smile although he was sure he looked more worried than anything else.

"May I?" Canada asked slowly, reaching tentatively with both arms towards England. Wales quickly understood and handed the sleeping nation over to Canada.

Cradling the little nation gently, Canada felt that the truth was finally sinking in. England was really an infant now which meant he had tried to commit suicide.

"I... I still can't believe England would do this..." Canada trailed off, gazing back at the other island nations.

"No one saw it coming Canada." Scotland shrugged helplessly and the others nodded.

England's eyes opened slowly and blinked a couple of times. Canada looked down in surprise, having not expected the small nation to wake up. England looked up, his eyes clearly mirroring surprise, but it was the surprise of seeing another unfamiliar face.

They remained in that silence when suddenly England's eyes were lit by a brief flash of recognition. He opened his mouth slowly and while no sound came out, what England mouthed was clear. K-kk..._ah...nn-nah...d-d...ah..._

As quickly as it had come the flash was gone. England looked at Canada but showed no other signs of recognizing him. England's brothers were all staring at him, gaping in surprise. Canada was shocked and surprised to say the least but at the same time felt very pleased.

"Wow, England hasn't done anything like that before." Ireland breathed out, looking at England appraisingly.

"Really?" Canada asked curiously, still staring at England.

"Yeah, you should have seen him before!" Scotland exclaimed, "He was practically a living ragdoll! The first few days were the worst, England could barely turn his head or lift an arm!"

"This is quite an improvement." Wales murmured thoughtfully and Canada laughed weakly.

"It's a bit odd though, it's not like I'm the most recognizable nation. Why did England recognize me so quickly? He didn't even confuse me with America." Canada remarked although he was truly pleased that he was the first nation England recognized.

"Well... we better get something to eat. Am I the only one who is hungry?" Scotland complained, looking at the other nations. Both Ireland and Wales nodded.

"Ah yes, I must go and find America. I wanted to discuss something with him." Canada explained, handing England back to Wales. He waved and then walked off to look for the American. Of course he knew where he would find his brother at a lunch break.

Ireland turned to his brothers. "Alright, let's go-" Ireland started saying but then groaned "Not again!"

Northern Ireland had somehow slipped away without anyone noticing... again. "He'll catch up with us." Scotland hurriedly defended and started walking. Ireland muttered something incoherently under his breath but followed after Scotland and Wales.

* * *

Finding America was to tell the truth never a difficult nation to find. At least Canada never had a problem finding his brother. He would be like always at the McDonalds eating his usual dozen of burgers. But this time a couple of things were different.

America had this time just half a dozen burgers on his tray. Instead of wolfing them down as he always did, he was absently nibbling on one burger and staring blankly in front of him. Canada was surprised at just how sad America looked. Was he really that touched by England's actions?

Canada walked up to the American nation and sat across from him. He greeted quietly, "Hey America."

Looking up in mild surprise, America mumbled, "Hullo Canada."

They were silent as both waited for the other to say something.

"Are you okay?" Canada finally asked, eager to break the silence.

"Huh, me?" America laughed loudly, a bit too loudly, "Of course I'm okay! Why wouldn't I be? I'm the hero after all!"

The other nation looked at him sceptically, clearly not convinced by the American's words.

"Why are you looking at me like that? I told you I'm okay!" America stammered, trying his best to grin reassuringly. Which absolutely failed.

Canada folded his arms and said, "You don't look okay to me America. Stop denying it."

America sighed defeated. "Alright, I'm not that okay. What else am I supposed to say?"

"Why are you so upset?"

America gazed at his brother silently before replying, "...The nation who raised me tried committing suicide? Isn't that reason enough?"

"America, we are all shocked about it. But we should now concentrate on the situation we have." Canada said calmly.

"What situation?" America asked obliviously.

Canada couldn't help but roll his eyes. "England is now stuck in the form of a child and can't remember anything at all. We have to help him."

"Yeah, but how? It's not like hitting him on the head would bring any memories back. Anyway it's his fault that he is like that now. He should help himself instead." America pouted and started eating his burger with more vigour. Anger was now slowly replacing his shock, America felt angry that England had done such a stupid thing. Why would he even consider it?

"America, England is not going to recover if we don't do something. I don't understand his reasons for trying to finish his life either but we'll never know if we don't help him." Canada sighed tiredly, not knowing how to deal with his brother's anger.

"Dun care." Came the muffled reply from America.

"America, that's really not a nice thing to say." Canada admonished tensely.

"Nor is it nice for E-england to t-try and kill himself!" America burst out angrily, glaring at Canada. "Didn't he think at all? Did he not think what he would be doing to the world by doing something so stupid?"

America was breathing harshly by the time he finished talking and Canada was slightly taken aback by the nation's fury. But somehow he could spot a look of hurt in America's eyes. Did he feel betrayed by England? Why...?

Canada looked up in surprise when America abruptly stood up. "I'm not hungry anymore..." Canada heard America mumble before striding away in a huff. Canada's shoulders slumped tiredly, he really hadn't expected America to feel so hurt over all this.

Thinking over America's words, Canada did start to wonder why England had tried to take his life away. What had caused England to become so depressed? Out of all the nations who might feel tempted to take the easy way out, England was nowhere near the top of that list. Canada had always seen England as a strong nation.

Well, he might have to rethink that belief. England didn't appear as strong-willed as he had everyone believe. That was now very ironically reflected by the form he had taken, the form of a vulnerable child.

Canada slowly stood up and walked back to the meeting. He wondered what was going to happen to England. How was he going to remember everything?

Would time really be enough to heal him?

* * *

America scowled and kicked an empty can out of his way as he returned to the building where the World meeting was held. He definitely hadn't wanted Canada to see how upset he was over all this.

He was the hero after all. Heroes had to act strong so that the others could look up to him and follow his example. America had failed to do that, he had allowed Canada to see...

The American shook his head angrily. Damn that Brit! Why did he have to go and try to kill himself? Why would he do that? Why?

Another thought crossed America's mind and his anger towards England deflated a little. What America especially couldn't understand was why he hadn't seen it coming.

For goodness sake, he CALLED England the day before the meeting! America should have noticed something, should have heard something odd in England's voice. Heroes always notice when bad things are about to happen and are always able to stop it just in time. Why hadn't America been able to do that?

Why hadn't America spotted anything in England's voice that betrayed the Brit's intention? America clearly remembered wondering why England sounded more tired than usual but had brushed it off as the island nation would often overwork himself.

He couldn't help but feel angry at himself for not having noticed anything. And furthermore, he hadn't even been worried when England had supposedly "fallen sick". Then again England fell so often sick that most nations always assumed that after a few days rest the Brit would be fine again. How could America have known that it was worse than some random cold...?

But still! Heroes saved everyone, even the grumpy Englishmen! And America hadn't been able to save England. Had England's mind already been made up in ending his life when America had called?

The American stopped walking and willed his thoughts to slow down. It was too much for him, he couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that England had tried killing himself and that America hadn't been able to stop him. There were too many emotions swirling in America's heart, many of which America couldn't make sense of.

"Get a grip of yourself." America muttered under his breath, trying to calm himself down. He couldn't show to the other countries how much this was affecting him. It would make him appear weak and no hero was ever weak.

But how should he react to England from now on? How can he react normally around England now?

How were things going to be between them now?

* * *

"Let's face it guys, we must have taken a false approach to this whole situation." Scotland said later when the meeting was over and all the British Isles were in the hotel room.

"What do you mean by that?" Northern Ireland asked defensively.

"I mean," Scotland explained calmly, "We have not done what was in England's best interest. Isolating him from the others did not help him recover. In three weeks he barely learned to move his arms, turn his head and sit up straight. And today..."

"He recognized Canada and almost said his name." Wales finished, looking thoughtful.

"So we need a change if tactic I think." Ireland agreed. "It is a big jump for England to recognize someone so quickly with the progress he was making and he recognized Canada of all nations."

Northern Ireland turned to look at England who was sitting on the bed and he blinked with surprise. "Hey, look at that!" Northern Ireland exclaimed in astonishment, causing the others to turn their gazes towards England.

The little nation had been interested in the hotel keys that had been dropped on the bed not far from him and he was actually trying to approach the keys. His weak movements were a mixture of dragging and crawling but England was finally moving after three weeks since the incident. He slowly reached out and gripped the keys tightly, pulling them towards him to inspect them.

"So where does the answer to England's recovery lie?" Wales asked as he returned his attention to Scotland, clearly impressed by England's little feat.

Scotland scratched his head, thinking hard. "I think England needs to be with the other countries. It's no use if he just sees us, he needs others as well. Those who have had a certain impact on him and are close to him."

"There's no way you're considering that bastard America!" Northern Ireland yelped. Scotland and Ireland looked at the youngest questionably. But Wales nodded in agreement.

"We certainly don't need America's help." Wales agreed firmly.

"Why not? America is probably the nation England was closest to." Scotland protested, confused by their reactions.

"What have you got against him?" Ireland asked curiously.

Wales crossed his arms, looking sour, "You two forget what America did to England. Yes, they were close but that hasn't been the case for a long time."

"Oh come on, England has many happy memories with America, probably the happiest." Scotland tried to convince the Welsh nation.

"He also has some of the worst memories with America." Northern Ireland interjected sullenly. He may not have been around when it happened but Northern Ireland had seen the times when England had been drunk or would suddenly have that sad look when remembering the old times with America. It had caused Northern Ireland to develop a strong dislike for the American, probably fuelled as well by Wales.

"You forget who had to deal with him after America got his independence. I don't want to go through that and have England suffer again. So, no America." Wales concluded firmly.

"But-" Scotland tried weakly.

"No." Wales cut his older brother off.

"You know how England... felt about America lately." Scotland shot back.

Wales looked for a moment unsure. "I... I am not blind about England's... feelings towards America. But America is more the trouble than he is worth it. So, it's still no."

"Then how about Canada?" Ireland proposed.

After giving it a moment of thought Wales agreed, "Canada is alright, he and England get along well and he is the first nation that England has recognized."

"But does he really remember Canada or is it just his name and face? England is showing no signs of knowing who Canada exactly is." Scotland pointed out.

They were silent while England had cast the keys aside to watch them. Though he still showed no signs of understanding what they were saying he still listened intently to them.

"During the World Meeting England will stay with us and if there are no other drastic changes then England will stay some time with Canada." Wales decided firmly.

"You know Wales, I think you're being way to paranoid over this whole thing. When England was smaller he used to be alone all the time and nothing bad ever happened to him. We hardly paid attention to him at that time." Scotland sighed, walking over to sit besides England.

Wales huffed out in annoyance, "Times have changed Scotland. We live in a different world and England is nowhere near as able to fend for himself as he once did. I think I'm perfectly justified to be careful about England's safe recovery."

Scotland looked at his younger brother shortly before he broke into a large grin. He looked over at Ireland and mumbled quietly, "England's secretary." Ireland looked at him blankly before bursting out into laughter.

"I heard that Scotland!" Wales growled, his face turning bright red. As he prepared himself to launch at Scotland he snapped at Ireland, "And you stay out of it!"

The Scot got to his feet but before he could do anything else, he was tackled by the Welshman.

Ireland snorted, "Hell if I'm going to listen to you." He joined into the struggle between the two other nations.

Northern Ireland and England watched on silently. England turned his attention to Northern Ireland, his eyes questioning. Northern Ireland shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

"You better not ask how we got them as our older brothers. I certainly don't know why."

* * *

Here ya go! And now we say farewell to the rest of the British Isles, they might appear again in this story but not until much later. They now have competition with the other characters. ^^ I know this chapter is long but somehow I'm proud of it. I hope the characters appeared IC when they heard the news about England's attempted suicide.

Some of the reactions of the characters portrayed here are based on real reactions in real life when someone attempted that "unthinkable" act. I never knew that person personally but I talked with one person who reacted similiarly to America. He said he was angry against that person but the anger was misplaced, the person was more angry with themselves for not having seen the signs. Suicide is not a light subject to write about so I will attempt to write it realistically. The story might become a little angsty again once England starts to regain some self-conscious and starts wondering about stuff... but that will take several chapters. ;)

I'll try to get the next one up soon!

Translations:

Irish:

A thiarcais! = for goodness' sake! (something like that)

sióga = fays (fairies)

Meiriceá = America (did ya know, in English the full name of America is shortened to USA and in Irish the full name is shortened to SAM. SAM. You know, Uncle Sam? XD Yup, when you guys say "United States of America", we say "Stáit Aontaithe Meiriceá". Just an interesting tidbit.)

"Bí i do thost!" = Be silent! ; shut up! (actually this is the polite way to say shut up. The rude form is "Dún do chladhb!" which means "Shut your gob!". The polite way is mostly used to silence children more than anyone else. So you can see why Ireland decided to use more this version instead of the rude version. :3 )

French:

_faiblesse = _weakness (I don't know, I like the sound of the word)

mon petit lapin = my little rabbit (somehow I see France calling England that or also "mon petit chaton" which means my little kitten. I think it's really cute! X3)

"Pourquoi?" = Why?

Au revoir = Goodbye

German:

Selbstmord = Suicide


	9. Chapter 9

Hey, new chapter is up! ^^ Sorry that it's so short, hopefully the next chapter will be longer. So now we bring the focus off of the British Isles and turn towards one of England's ex-colony, Canada. And throw a little France into here, though in this chapter he will live up to his "Big Brother" title. I dunno... I kind of like having France act all brotherly, and not being the constant pervert we all know him to be. Does that make me sappy? XD

* * *

Chapter 9 

Canada had been quite surprised when the World Meeting was over to have Scotland approach him with England in his arms. He was even more surprised by what Scotland had informed him. Of course he had asked if he was being serious but the Scottish nation was adamant about it. He handed Canada little England and with a wave was gone.

And thus Canada became the temporary guardian of England. At least Scotland had told him that it would be good for England to stay a couple of days with Canada. Scotland would check on him at the G8 meeting which was soon and since England was also a member of the G8 Scotland was going to replace him.

It was with a bit of disappointment that Canada discovered that although England had remembered his name he did not seem to remember anything else about the Canadian nation. It was overall really difficult to understand the little island nation.

England often wore an expression of curiosity or confusion. He never made an attempt to utter another word. It slightly saddened Canada, to see his former mentor in this state and making very slow progress, if at all, at recovery.

Canada was sitting on the couch watching England discover the softness of Kumajiro's fur. It was almost amusing, seeing England stroke the fur and being surprised at the feeling of it.

His reactions were very much like a child. Canada broke into a gentle smile. England sure was cute like that and it was a nice change from the usually grumpy Brit who never seemed to be happy. Now if only England could speak...

The phone in the hallway rung, forcing Canada to stand up and leave the room to answer it. England looked up and watched Canada go, feeling an odd twinge in his heart. England didn't know what the twinge was but he did not... like the feeling.

Kumajiro noticed after a couple of minutes that Canada was gone as well. He gazed around the room, wondering out loud, "Where is... I don't know who he is but he's not here. And I'm hungry."

The polar bear looked at the little nation beside him and asked, "Aren't you hungry too? We should go find something."

England looked at Kumajiro uncomprehending. The bear seemingly shrugged and stood up, making his way towards the kitchen. England looked after him and felt determined not to be left behind.

He struggled to follow the bear through a series of dragging and crawling. England struggled to keep up with Kumajiro but the polar bear was quickly gone. England stopped to catch his breath.

Obviously this was not the correct way to move. England tried thinking of another way to follow the bear. He then remembered how... his name was Canada wasn't it?... moved about. He stood on two legs.

England looked at his legs and frowned. Technically he should then also be able to move on his two legs, England could very well see a difference between a bear and nation.

Moving carefully, England placed one leg under him, not really sure how to stand up. The knee was pressed against his chest and his sole was touching the ground. In a flash of memory that quickly disappeared, England guessed he had to push on this foot.

Quickly pushing his leg, England wobbled to a standing position before falling flat on his stomach. England blinked in surprise. Why had he fallen? Was he not meant to walk on two legs? Why was it so difficult?

Pushing himself back into a sitting position, England studied his legs. Were they different from Canada's? Then he noticed it: He had only used one of his legs to stand on the ground. He had to use both.

Attempting to stand up again, England found himself on his two legs but sadly he wobbled, his legs buckling and he fell on his bottom. England frowned and wiggled his toes. He had made an improvement but his legs seemed almost too weak to keep him standing.

He would have to try several times until he would be able to stand up properly. That made England feel... well, he didn't really know what the name of this feeling was exactly but he knew he didn't like it.

"Why are you taking so long?"

The island nation glanced up and saw Kumajiro returning from wherever he had been, padding over to the little nation. "You don't know where the kitchen is? Why didn't you say so?"

England could do nothing more but blink in response. Somewhere at the back of his mind he started wondering if a bear should be able to talk. But it was a weak thought and England soon let it go, forgetting that he even had the thought.

The bear looked at England curiously but at the same time impatiently. He stepped closer to the child and nudged him. When England failed to respond Kumajiro leaned closer and bit into the scruff of England's shirt. He started dragging the little nation in the direction of the kitchen.

The small boy opened his mouth but could not voice his discomfort of being dragged across the room by a polar bear. England closed his mouth again, starting to feel a little... frustrated? He couldn't be sure if he was feeling that. And that was anno... he couldn't remember the name of that feeling either! What was wrong with him?

When Canada had ended his call, he returned to the room to find it empty. He blinked confusedly, where had both England and his bear gone? A shattering noise was his answer. It seemed to be coming from the kitchen.

Canada went towards the kitchen, having a bad feeling about what he was about to find. When he stepped into the kitchen he couldn't help but yelp loudly, "Maple!"

Kumajiro had somehow managed to clamber onto the counter and in the process dropped a couple of glasses and a jar. That jar was full of maple syrup. Now the jar had fallen on top of England and the little island nation was from head to toe covered in maple syrup.

England frowned, not enjoying this new feeling. Stickiness was definitely not as enjoyable as softness. He closed his eyes as syrup dripped down from his hair and got dangerously close to his eyes. England shook his head but only managed to dislodge the jar that had been sitting lopsided on England's head.

Canada sighed heavily and walked over to England. All that good maple syrup gone to waste... and now he had an extremely sticky nation. He picked England up and muttered, "Might as well have to give you a bath, eh? At least you don't smell bad."

About 20 minutes later a rather dishevelled-looking Canada returned to the living room, carrying a very annoyed little nation. Canada had always known England to be a very clean nation but that apparently did not mean that England enjoyed baths.

Or maybe he didn't like having maple syrup being scrubbed off his body. Especially out of his hair. Either way the little nation had put up a lot more struggle than Canada had expected, especially considering England's current state. Not that England had been impossible to handle but Canada did have a bit of a struggle. At least he hadn't dropped England and he hadn't slipped on the excess amount of water that had somehow come out of the bath tub.

It was actually hard to see from his expression that England was... quite annoyed. His expression remained quite neutral, it was really the glint in his eyes which gave away what England was feeling.

This was certainly an ordeal that Canada did not want to repeat. Ever. He placed England on the sofa and sat beside him, vowing to keep a better eye on the Brit. Canada wondered what he could to keep himself occupied.

Almost like an invitation, someone decided to ring his doorbell. Canada stood up slowly but before leaving he turned to England and said, "Please stay put England, I'll be back in just a moment."

England just looked at him without a response.

Canada walked to the hall and opened the front door, not expecting anyone really. So he was surprised when he saw France standing in front of him.

"Bonjour mon Canada chérie!" France greeted enthusiastically, giving Canada a big bear hug.

"O-Oh, hey France." Canada stuttered slightly, surprised as always to be greeted so warmly by France. He squeaked when a sneaky hand went down and groped and the Canadian pulled out of the Frenchman's grasp. France was smiling innocently as always. Of course, this was France after all. Canada shook his head and asked, "So, what brings you here?"

France smiled a rather sheepish smile. "To be honest Canada, my reason for coming here is because I heard that you were taking care of Angleterre. How did you manage to convince his brothers to let him go?"

"Ah, I didn't do anything at all. They just decided like that..." Canada replied, standing aside to allow France to come in. "England is in the living room right now." Canada added quickly. The French nation walked in and made his way to the living room.

When Canada and France entered the room, both saw England crawling to the edge of the sofa. Canada panicked and immediately started walking towards England.

"England, I told you to-" Canada was cut off as France reached out and gripped his wrist.

"Calme toi Canada. Let him be." France calmly said.

The Canadian spun around and stared at France in disbelief. "But he will fall down!"

"So he will fall down. Maybe it will hurt and maybe it will not. If Angleterre is to make a quick recovery it is of no use to overprotect him. The Angleterre we knew is used to pain, if he falls now he will learn and won't do it again. He certainly wouldn't appreciate being treated like a child." France explained calmly, still not letting go of Canada's wrist.

Canada looked from France to England helplessly. England continued approaching the edge of the sofa, completely ignoring Canada and France. He seemed to be concentrating on something.

When he was directly at the edge the obvious happened. England slid off the sofa and landed with a bump on the ground. Apart from blinking in surprise, England showed no signs of being perturbed.

France turned to Canada triumphantly and said, "What did I tell you Canada, nothing bad happened." He went over to an armchair and made himself comfortable.

"Yes, but he still could have been hurt." Canada pointed out quietly before sitting back on the sofa.

"Angleterre blessé? Mon cher, I've known him since he was exactly that size and never once did he get badly hurt." France laughed heartily. England glanced up and regarded the newcomer with interest.

The Frenchman noticed the little nation gazing at him and he leaned forward a bit. "So Angleterre, do you remember me from last time?"

England just continued staring at France silently, his green eyes giving no signs of recognition. France sighed a little bit and smiled grimly.

"He still doesn't seem to recognize anyone." Canada explained, feeling a little uncomfortable seeing his other former mentor looking so disheartened. France leaned back into the armchair and shook his head.

"Don't look so worried Canada, I'm just used to be always fighting with Angleterre and seeing him like this is just... bizarre. But not bad, he's at least calmer like this." France tried to make his smile reassuring.

"But why do you think England tried..." Canada trailed off uncertainly, not wanting to utter the word. It was such a spiteful word.

France simply shrugged, he didn't know how to reply to the question. He didn't know the reasons behind England's actions but then again, no one else knew about it either. England had always been good at hiding behind his mask, not even France could always understand his rival though he had known him for centuries.

Feeling a tugging at his jeans, France looked down to find England at his feet. Neither Canada nor France had noticed the island nation crawl his way towards the French nation. But it didn't seem England was tugging France's jeans to get his attention. It seemed as if England was using his grip on the jeans to pull himself to his feet.

Canada and France both watched in silent surprise as England finally managed to get to his feet, wobbling slightly and keeping his grip on France's jeans to stay steady. Finally when he seemed more stable England looked up to France, giving him a calculating gaze that was reminiscent of the England both nations were familiar with.

Laughing loudly, France commented, "All this struggle just to get a better look at moi? I feel so complimented!" England stared back at France surprised, the calculative stare immediately disappearing. France picked England up and set him on his lap.

"Are you sure you don't remember me Angleterre? I'm big brother France!" France grinned expectedly but England made no response. France's smile fell a bit but he quickly regained himself.

"I'm sure if we give him some time he will start to remember." Canada assured, happy that now England was starting to move around again. This at the very least was some progress showing that England was going to recover! It put Canada at ease.

"You're right, maybe I shouldn't be expecting too much from him. Angleterre right now needs help on his standing and walking, we can't have him crawling around like a little animal." France agreed, putting England back on the ground.

France looked at his watch and reluctantly stood up. "I wish I could stay longer but my boss wants to see me on "important" matters so I have to go."

"Ah, that's really a shame. But I'll keep you informed about England, okay?" Canada proposed while he stood up as well.

"No worries, I might drop in again soon." France waved his hand dismissively. He then turned to England and said, "See you soon mon petit lapin. Try to remember big brother France, d'accord?"

He ruffled England's hair and the little nation leaned his head away, not looking pleased at all. France's eyes lighted up at the familiar reaction, perhaps England hadn't forgotten everything. At least he seemed to remember that he hated having his hair ruffled.

As Canada walked France to the door, England found himself alone again. England replayed what the other nations had said in his mind. Of course he still couldn't understand them when they were talking, England could only hear a string of words merged together. No particular distinction or form existing between the words.

But there was one or two words that started to stand out. One in particular was a word the unfamiliar person had used. England had a flash of memory and when it left he was left with a distinct word in his mind. _France. _

Was that the name of the other person? The one with the bear was called Canada and the other was called France. Neither name rang any bell really, they just had a feeling attached to them that these were important names. How important England did not know. He just knew that he should know more about them and annoyingly enough he just had their names.

"F...f-f... f..." England tried unsuccessfully to say the name. Rather than mouth the word, England wanted to try and say it. He wanted to be able to... talk. Like the others! He knew he should be able to.

So why was it difficult? The word was so clear in his mind but he was clueless when it came to saying it. He realised he didn't know how to make the right pronunciation. He could make the "f" sound without a problem but what made the "r" sound?

This really annoyed England. "F... f... f-f... a... fa..." Let's face it, he couldn't say it! England shut his mouth and the lines of the corners of his lips went downwards. England felt his lips, something telling him that he was making a pout.

England shook his head, completely confused by the workings of his mind.

Why did everything appear so complicated?

* * *

Not much to comment on this chapter, except we get to have a little more insight on the state of England's mind. I've been asked a couple of times already about the pairings in this story. Although it isn't fully clear yet, the story will end in UsxUk. But by the looks of it it's probably going to be only shonen-ai, I don't think I will try writing yaoi just yet. ^^; And the other pairings... yeah, I might hint here and there but I don't really want to concentrate too strongly on the romance of other characters.

On an interesting side-note, did you know that in Irish, writing the word "Francach" can have two meanings depending on the "f" or "F"? If you write "Francach", you're referring to a Frenchman. However if you write it as "francach", you're referring to a rat. I recently thought about this because I was watching with my family the irish news, and they were doing a report on the amount of litter/rubbish on the streets. And I was still in Hetalia mode so when I heard the following line in Irish I translated it to: "And the amount of litter on the streets is bound to attract Frenchmen to this place." At that I was kind of, "Why should French people come where there is rubbish?" O_o Then I suddenly remembered: Oh, they meant rats. And I found this so funny that I started laughing out loud, my parents questioning my sanity of course. X3

Translations:

French:

Bonjour mon Canada chérie = Hello my dearest Canada

Calme toi Canada = Calm down Canada (even though "toi" means "you", but I don't know if "calm yourself Canada" would be an accurate translation)

"Angleterre blessé?" = England hurt?

bizarre = odd, weird, unusual

moi = me


	10. Chapter 10

Gah, I'm feeling really tired lately. I had just one week holiday from school but the teachers gave us enough homework to make it feel like it was more of a homework camp instead of relaxing holdiays. *sigh* At least I whipped out a longer chapter for you guys, this one will have a lot of changes.

Disclaimer: Hetalia and the characters don't belong to me

* * *

Chapter 10

Later that night, after England had been put to bed, Canada found himself going on the Internet for answers. Sure, Internet was not 100% accurate but you never knew if you would stumble on a trustworthy site.

Right now, Canada wanted to understand what could have driven England to attempt suicide. Firstly he considered looking for any hints of increased suicide attempts in the UK. That might have possibly influenced England's mood.

Although Canada did land on a list of suicide rates by country, it quickly became apparent that England's people had nothing to do with England's suicide attempt. Being in the 66th place of a list of 104, it didn't seem likely that the problem was country-related. (And why was Canada in the 35th place?)

So Canada started considering things that might have personally affected the representation of the UK. Had something drastic recently happened to England? Any recent event that might have affected England?

Not that Canada could think of one. Any changes in his behaviour?

...How was Canada supposed to know? The Brit had always hidden behind a mask so Canada was unsure of what could have really driven England to try and end his life.

No, he wasn't going to go anywhere if he kept thinking like that. Canada had to think logically. Turning his attention back to Google, Canada typed in "causes of suicide".

The list was dauntingly long. Canada scanned through the many pages, his mind registering a few words that popped up very often.

"Mood disorders"? England was considered by many nations to be emotionally unstable (a.k.a always grumpy and prone to violence) but Canada had never wondered whether England was unstable enough to try and kill himself. Had England successfully hidden just how unstable he was from the others?

"Alcohol abuse"? Well, England definitely was the most often drunk of all the nations. Any time the nations would meet up at a bar for a drink, England was usually the first to become drunk. And lately, England had started to drink more. He would also spontaneously burst into tears and ramble about the good old days. And he would also complain about how all his colonies had abandoned him.

"Depression"? ...This cause made Canada stop and think. It would be ridiculous to suppose that England wasn't depressed considering the above causes as well. But **why **was England depressed? Because he had lost his empire? No, all the other nations had lost their empires. There was no reason for England to become depressed about that. To be a bit sad was understandable but not depression.

So what could have caused England to become depressed? Canada thought hard. There was something... but could it have been the reason for England's depression?

In the recent years Canada had become more aware of how England reacted to America. Though he constantly declared how he couldn't stand the American, Canada could see that England always showed genuine concern for America when he was troubled. That, and the rumours that had started to crop up in the recent years.

Rumours of developing feelings. Rumours of increased denials and confused reactions from the Brit. Rumours of unrequited feelings.

Of course Canada had heard about all those rumours of England having a crush on America. But was it true? Had England really developed a crush on America? Looking back through his memories where Canada saw how both nations interacted with each other, there was maybe some ground to those rumours.

But England had never openly admitted to those feelings to anyone. Had he even admitted those feelings to himself? Canada sighed. There were many reasons why England could have tried to take his own life away.

The Canadian continued looking through the internet, glancing at various sites that ranged from informative to a bit creepy. Then he found an interesting site that was selling a book titled "Pour ne plus vivre sur la planète Taire".

He had to chuckle at the title. Whoever had thought that title out was very witty. Translated into English, the clever meaning would be lost. "Taire" meant "silent". "Terre" was Earth. Both words sounded the same except they were spelled differently.

"To no longer live on planet Silent". It sounded like an interesting book to read. Canada read a bit through comments and saw that it had many positive reviews. He then looked at some of the summaries on the book.

"_The body is another way for a person to express themselves. It is common knowledge that the body never lies. The body says what the person won't express verbally."_

Really? Canada's interest was piqued. He hadn't known that the body says what the person otherwise wouldn't say. Then another interesting line caught his eye.

"_The sicknesses that the body deals with also are the body's way to express what wasn't expressed verbally. Most people fall sick when their immune system has been weakened and a strong factor for that is emotional instability." _

Canada sat back in his chair and considered that new thought. England had fallen sick very often, unusually often for a nation. And many times the sicknesses were unrelated to his country and people.

So the times England had fallen sick was perhaps due to emotional instability? Canada really wanted to buy that book and read it through. It sounded interesting and it might clear up some confusion. And shed more light on England's confusing personality even!

Looking at his watch, Canada realized that it was way past midnight. Time for him to go to bed as well. Canada shut the computer off and stood up to go to his bedroom. On his way Canada was passing the guest room where England was sleeping.

The Canadian decided to sneak a glance inside the bedroom, just to check that England was alright. When he slowly and quietly opened the door to the room, the light of the hallway streamed inside the room. Canada was surprised to find that England wasn't sleeping.

The little island nation was sitting up in bed and was looking directly at Canada. For how long had England been awake?

"What is it England, you can't sleep?" Canada whispered quietly, walking into the room towards England. He crouched low next to the bed so that he was at eye-level with England. The Brit did seem quite tired but somehow wasn't willing to fall asleep.

"Come on England, you need to sleep. It is very important for you." Canada smiled gently and patted England's head reassuringly. England was staring at him quietly, his eyes seeming conflicted. What was bothering England?

England slowly raised his arm up and grasped Canada's fingers. Canada, surprised by this action, allowed England to pull his hand down. Canada wondered quietly if England didn't want to be patted on the head.

But England hadn't done that because he didn't want to be patted. He held Canada's fingers tightly and close to his chest, his green eyes never breaking contact with Canada's purple eyes.

Somehow Canada understood what England was trying to tell him. England didn't want to be alone. Canada broke into a wide smile and picked the smaller nation up.

"Don't want to sleep alone, eh? I suppose you can sleep with me then." Canada chuckled softly and brought England with him to his own bedroom. England was still looking at the Canadian, his eyes uncomprehending of what Canada was saying but there was decidedly a more relaxed look in England's eyes.

After a few moments, England allowed his tired eyes to close. He lay his head against Canada's chest and slipped into a peaceful slumber.

* * *

"Come on America, pick up the phone already." Canada grumbled, trying for the fourth time to reach the American.

Canada had just been wondering if America would be interested in meeting with England and help Canada by just talking to the Brit. Canada noticed that talking did seem to have an effect on England, he still didn't look like he was understanding what was being said but at least England was beginning to look a bit more attentive to what Canada was telling him.

As if he was trying to understand the Canadian.

However, Canada didn't seem to be able to reach America, either by his home phone or mobile phone. Logically America should be at home. Or was he? Canada had no way to check but by the looks of it, either America was out, or he was avoiding the phone.

The latter seemed a bit more likely. But why wasn't America answering the phone? That greatly frustrated the Canadian, especially after the fourth time resulted in him receiving no answer from America yet again.

America was going to ignore him as always? Fine then, Canada would enjoy his time with England alone. On the hindsight it might even cure England from his eternal disability to tell the difference between Canada and America.

It had always been an issue for Canada, to be constantly mistaken for America. Maybe now by spending time with him, England would finally be able to tell the North American brothers apart!

Or funnier still, that England would start to mistake America for Canada!

* * *

America sighed in relief when the phone finally stopped ringing for the 4th time. He felt bad for ignoring Canada, he knew his brother hated that. He got that enough from the others anyway.

But the American didn't really feel like talking to Canada. Canada had gone a bit weird during the last World Meeting, asking America odd questions like how he felt about England committing suicide. It made America dig into his mind to understand his reactions and the American didn't want to do that.

He would always stray to those weird feelings, feelings the American couldn't really understand. And it frustrated him. So he mostly ignored them and avoided digging into himself to fish for answers.

And since Canada was exactly intent on that, to dig everything up and reveal it to the surface, America was set on not responding to Canada until he got over that strange phase.

He was just like that. America didn't like mulling over the past, the most important thing was to move on and not to constantly look back. Not like England. That guy definitely stayed stuck in the past way too much.

America looked over at his phone, a bit worried that it might start to ring again. Canada could sometimes be very insistent if he wanted to.

When it didn't America let out his breath in relief and continued playing his totally awesome game on PS3.

* * *

Before Canada knew it several days had passed and it was the G8 meeting. Luckily the meeting was at his place so he had no worries about coming late.

In the last few days Canada had actually managed to make some progress with England. Now England was more or less stable on his feet and was able to walk a little bit. Though he often wobbled and fell down, England just kept standing up again. Canada recognized this determination as one of England's traits and was glad of the few times he caught a glimpse of the England he was familiar with.

Not only was England getting better with his movements but in the last few days Canada could have sworn England was trying to say something. Most often he would hear the Brit make a soft "f" or a "c" sound but every time Canada turned to the sound England would have already given up or moved his attention to something else.

Canada walked into the meeting room, definitely not surprised that he was the first there. He looked at his watch and decided that the others should be here soon. He looked down at England whom he'd been carrying.

"You can try and remember someone during the meeting, okay? There are fewer countries in the G8 meeting than in the World Meeting but they're countries you're most likely to recognize. You will see France and Scotland again." Canada explained softly to England, hoping to convey the message in his last sentence to England. He really hoped England would at least recognize France and Scotland again.

The English nation struggled a bit, wanting to be put down. Canada, at first surprised, obliged. England struggled to his feet and with a slight wobble walked a bit, looking around the unfamiliar room. Canada smiled in amusement at England's curiosity. Then he noticed that something was missing.

Looking around Canada noticed that his bear, Kima-something, was missing. Wasn't he behind Canada just a moment ago? Canada cast a worried glance at England who was still occupied with the room. He could leave England alone for just a little while, right? There was nothing in this room that could be potentially dangerous for England.

Deciding that England could be left alone for a couple of minutes, Canada left the room looking for the polar bear. After all he didn't want Kui-something to destroy anything while no one was looking.

England continued inspecting the room with interest, glad he could move around to get a closer look at things. He only noticed when a couple of minutes had passed that Canada had disappeared without a word. England pouted and sat on the ground, having satisfied his curiosity and not really wanting to go looking after the Canadian. He had closed the door as well so England couldn't do anything.

After a moment England heard heavy footsteps approaching the room. The door opened slowly but England was just on the other side of the table so he couldn't see if it was Canada. He stood up and went to look who it was.

When he finally saw the nation England was in awe. This person was a lot taller than Canada. The unfamiliar nation didn't notice England and sat down at the table, pulling out from the bag the nation was carrying a pile of notes.

England approached the stranger slowly, trying his best to remember who it was. After failing at it he finally tentatively called, "C-ca...?" He knew it wasn't Canada but maybe this person knew Canada.

Surprised purple eyes turned their attention to England, the tall nation surprised to find he wasn't alone in the room.

"Ah England, you also came to the meeting? Even like this you still don't want to miss any meetings, da?" The stranger gave a smile that made England think of a small child. England was sure he had seen this stranger before but could not remember when or where.

The tall nation chuckled at England's expression, "You don't remember who I am, da? I'm Russia."

England looked at this nation, Russia, incredulous. Another name with an "r"! Oh well, might as well try to say it.

"...ush-eee-ah." England tried repeating the name but failed to say the "r" in the beginning. Russia's eyes glinted dangerously but England ignored the fact that he had potentially insulted the Russian.

"You have to say the "r" too England, my name is not Ussia. I don't like that you mispronounced my name." Although Russia's eyes showed a glint of discontent, his sweet child-like expression never faltered. This made England rather curious about this nation.

"I have to take a look at these notes. You better leave me alone, da? You certainly shouldn't forget that I don't like you." Russia gave England a last smile before returning his attention to his notes on the table.

The English nation frowned, he hadn't understood what Russia had said but he did not like the fact that he was being ignored. So he carefully walked closer to Russia, looking at him up and down, noticing how different he looked from Canada or France. He then spotted something interesting trailing on the ground from the Russian.

He wondered what it was. He looked at it and followed it up until it wrapped around Russia's neck. What in the world was that thing supposed to be? England walked closer and reached out with his hand to grip this odd object.

Russia started as he felt someone tug at his scarf. He looked down in surprise to see England holding his scarf, looking at it closely.

"England, I don't like it when someone is touching my scarf. I definitely don't like that you're touching it. I suggest you let go, da?" Russia chanted, his eyes flashing dangerously. England ignored Russia's words and proceeded to tug at the scarf again.

"Kokolkolkol, I said not to touch my scarf! It's quite old." Russia lost his smile, his face becoming colder. Was England stupid or what? The Brit did not seem to register Russia's change in personality, still too interested in the scarf.

The Russian took his scarf and tried pulling it out of England's hands. But the little nation kept a firm grip on it, resulting in him being lifted off the ground. Russia lifted the scarf higher, hoping this would convince England to let go. But the island nation remained hanging stubbornly, not letting go.

"Will you let go England?" Russia hissed in annoyance, swinging the scarf slightly. England looked at Russia in confusion, not really understanding in what situation he was bringing himself into.

Russia lifted the scarf higher and started swinging it more. England begun to find it hard to hang on to the scarf. Soon England was at Russia's eye level as the Russian swung it more and more. England cast a glance at Russia, not liking being so high up and feeling the scarf slip out of his fingers slowly.

England tried clinging to the scarf, knowing very well that if he let go now he would fall down quite hard. Russia noticed the struggles of the smaller nation and slowed down his swings. He felt something odd in his heart, a clutching sensation. As he watched England slowly lose grip on his scarf Russia's mind gave him two options. This was England, a nation Russia disliked a lot. On the other hand, England was now a child and Russia liked children.

When the scarf finally slipped out of England's grip, Russia quickly reached out with the other hand and caught the little nation before he fell to the ground. He then placed England on his laps. The English nation looked around in confusion, one moment he was falling and now he was here.

Russia sighed a bit, not entirely sure why he had stopped England from falling. He would have enjoyed England's pain. But on the other hand Russia did not like seeing children in pain, there was a certain innocence in them that Russia didn't want to destroy or see destroyed. He looked down at England and couldn't help but smile.

England looked oddly cute with his large emerald eyes, gazing back at the Russian nation. On top of that England made no movement to leave, he didn't even seem to be frightened. That was a surprising element, all the nations feared Russia normally.

"You are quite lucky I didn't let you fall, da?" Russia asked simply, smiling his childish smile. England looked at Russia curiously, cocking his head to one side.

England then yawned largely and before Russia could say anything, England had curled up and fallen asleep on Russia's lap. Russia was further surprised by this, England's actions actually showed that he was completely at ease in Russia's presence! Excluding Belarus, no nation had ever been this relaxed around Russia. The Russian never understood why and all his attempts at making friends had remained unsuccessful.

And now here he was, having a little nation fall asleep on his laps, a nation that Russia actually disliked. But somehow Russia didn't feel like pushing England away.

Well, as long as England let Russia work through his notes, he was okay with letting the small nation be. It felt nice. Russia went back to his notes and worked in silence, the island nation dozing peacefully.

After a couple of minutes the other nations finally arrived, almost all the same time. It wasn't too surprising with Germany, Italy, France and Scotland they were all neighbours after all. Japan followed shortly and America was late as usual. The other nation... the one that looked like America... was also late.

Of course the other nations had noticed what had to be the oddest image they had ever seen. Italy opened his mouth to say something but was stopped by Germany, silently shaking his head. France and Japan exchanged worried glances and Scotland looked sorely tempted to rush forward and to snatch England away from Russia.

But no one did anything. It was too risky and it didn't look like England was in any immediate danger. Slowly the others sat down and started conversing between themselves, no one daring to comment on the strange phenomenon. It made no sense, everyone knew that Russia didn't like England and many knew Russia wouldn't hesitate to hurt England if given the chance.

So why was England now asleep on Russia's laps? No nation could find an explanation.

When Canada returned with his polar bear, he paled considerably when he too spotted where England was. He was wondering what his chances with facing Russia were until France discreetly pulled him into the empty chair beside him, muttering under his breath, "I wouldn't try anything right now."

Canada looked at England worriedly and whispered to France, "But... but this is Russia!"

"Which is exactly why we shouldn't do anything. Russie is very unpredictable, I myself don't understand how Angleterre even got himself in this situation." France insisted quietly, casting a wary glance over at Russia.

Russia, finished with his notes, was now looking around. He was wearing a bemused expression, quietly wondering why the other nations seemed so tense.

Finally America walked in, declaring loudly, "The hero is here!"

Germany frowned and looked at his watch. "10 minutes late as usual."

"Aww come on Germany, I had to fulfil my hero duties first!"America whined as he took his seat beside Canada.

"Let's just begin with the meeting now that everyone is here." Germany sighed heavily, organising his notes and standing up to start. America pouted but fell silent and the meeting finally begun in earnest.

America tried with all his strength to pay attention to what Germany was saying but after a couple of minutes he let his mind wander. When he was looking around the room America suddenly stiffened. He sat up a little straighter to assure himself that he was seeing correctly.

_How in the world...? _America was, to say the very least, shocked and appalled. Who wouldn't be? Russia was looking at America in curiosity and amusement, certainly enjoying America's dumb-founded expression. Both Canada and France cast a warning glance at America who didn't seem to notice them.

Just as it looked like America was going to spring up and play the hero, Canada grabbed his wrist and stopped America from standing up. Canada's expression clearly read "no" while America shot back a defiant glare while hissing, "Why not?"

Canada rolled his eyes and whispered hurriedly, "It's too risky. Wait until the meeting has ended."

The American gritted his teeth but managed to stay in his seat. Throughout much of the meeting he spent his time wondering what move he should pull on the Russian to get to the little England. Now and again he glared at Russia, convinced that the Russian had some evil plan in mind. Well, as the hero, it was up to America to foil it!

The meeting was very long, slow and especially boring. America probably missed what most of the other nations had said and was becoming impatient. Why were those meetings so long? Finally the meeting was declared over and all the nations stood up.

America remembered something and announced loudly, "Hey guys, don't forget my birthday is in a couple of days and I will have a big party! Make sure you all come!"

Canada muttered quietly, "My birthday is before yours..." but was cut off by Italy exclaiming, "Ve, I and Germany will be sure to come! Isn't that right Germany?"

The German nation coughed lightly but nodded, "Of course Italy."

Japan added, "I will try to come America-san."

America grinned. He loved to celebrate his birthday with big parties and the more nations attended, the more fun it was. This year was not going to be an exception. As some of the nations started to leave, America turned towards Russia and narrowed his eyes warily. Now the face-off...

As the American approached Russia, the tall nation stood up, still cradling the sleeping form of England. Russia wore his characteristic smile which kind of unnerved America.

"Ah, I think you want England back, da?" Russia asked brightly and without letting America answer, he handed the island nation back to America.

America blinked in surprise, he definitely had not expected this. Having Russia return England without so much a fight or even a demand was in itself amazing enough! Not that he would complain, America didn't feel like starting a fight with Russia anyway. N-not that he was paranoid of said nation.

"I would still be careful if I were you America. England seems to have the type of curiosity that, shall we say, "killed the cat"." Russia just smiled his childish smile and walked off. America stared after him wordlessly, frowning at whether what Russia said was a threat or not.

He turned around and noticed that Canada, France and Scotland stood behind him, all three gazing at him in awe. America quickly recovered and gave them his trademark grin and walked over to them. Now he felt all heroic!

"And the hero saves the day!" He declared loudly which earned him a collective sigh from the other nations.

"Thank goodness that nothing happened..." Canada murmured quietly, glancing worriedly at England.

"Next time be careful when you leave Angleterre alone. I don't need that kind of stress." France admonished Canada though his tone wasn't that harsh.

"Wait, what?" America was a bit confused here. Why was Canada being blamed for this?

"I tried contacting you but you never responded. I have been taking care of England since the end of the World Meeting." Canada explained, a little annoyed when he remembered the times he had tried to reach the American. He was sure it had been deliberate.

"Oh, ah, my phone wasn't really working so maybe that's why I didn't hear anything." America laughed lightly, hoping Canada didn't spot the lie in his words. It was just a little lie. There was nothing unheroic about it, right?

America turned to Scotland and said, "So, I guess you would want England back, huh?" But when he tried handing the little nation back to Scotland he realized that England, though still asleep, had managed to get a grip on America's shirt. America stared at England with a little of surprise.

Scotland watched the scene intently and suddenly his face lighted up with an idea. Wales and Northern Ireland would be completely unhappy with him but hell, this was for England's sake! And maybe both English-speaking nations could finally settle their differences and England would get over the Revolution. It was a good opportunity.

"Actually America, I have a better idea. Why don't you take care of England for a while?" Scotland proposed, his eyes glinting as he stepped away from the American.

"Huh?" America blinked stupidly, not completely sure he had heard right. "You want me to...?"

"...Take care of England, yes. He needs other nations as well to fully recover, me and my brothers alone aren't enough. Canada took care of England and now it's your turn." Scotland stated patiently.

America looked at Scotland uncertainly and then back at England. Take care of his former mentor? That sounded like a déjà vu... except it was in reverse now.

"Since your birthday will be in a couple of days, England can stay with you until then if you don't mind. I hope he will regain more of his memories by then." Scotland gave America a last smile before turning around and walking away, giving America no chance to respond.

"Hey, wait!" America called after him but the Scot was already gone.

As he turned to Canada the Canadian shook his head. "You can take care of England for a few days."

"But heroes don't babysit!" America whined loudly, feeling England shift slightly in his arms. But the island nation did not wake up.

"Don't you want England back to normal? He needs all the help he can get."Canada shot back. Then he added, "I managed to teach him how to walk again. And he's showing signs of talking as well. I'm sure you can help him America."

Staring at his brother silently, America finally grumbled, "Fine then, old man better not complain about it when he recovers." Looking down at England he grinned, "Well you're not much of an old man now, huh Iggy?"

* * *

When England finally woke up he found himself in a different surrounding. One that was unfamiliar to him. It wasn't Canada's home nor was it the room he had last been in. He was lying on a couch and a blanket had been wrapped around him.

England shifted into a sitting position, regarding his surroundings with great interest. Where was he?

America stepped into the room quietly, not sure how to approach the smaller nation. England failed to notice him, he was still looking around himself. America finally decided to make his presence known.

"Hey England, you're finally awake! Took you long enough!" America exclaimed cheerfully, walking around the sofa and crouching so that he was at the same eye-level as England. The British nation seemed a bit startled at first by America's sudden appearance but he was soon looking at him sharply, as if trying to figure out who he was.

It was evident that England was confused. His eyes narrowed a bit as he attempted to identify who was in front of him. He opened his mouth and asked in a very quiet tone, "C-cann-ah-dah?"

The American blinked in shock, completely stunned. Did England just... mistake him for Canada? That was completely unthinkable! That shouldn't even happen! How can England make such a mistake?

"No, no, I'm America!" America corrected hastily. No way was he having England believe that he was Canada. Not for one second.

England furrowed his eyebrows, opening his little mouth to say the name. "A-a-meh-eee-kah." Under normal circumstances America would have laughing loudly by now, hearing how butchered his name sounded when England said it. But America knew the reason England was struggling with talking was because of a failed attempt of suicide. This reminder slightlydepreseed America.

But overall England almost got the pronunciation right. He just had to add the "r" and he would be able to say America's name correctly more or less.

"It's America England, not Ameheekah or however you said it. Just say the "r" as well and you can say my name." America encouraged.

England frowned in concentration as he attempted to say the name again. "Ame... ame-e... ame-ee..." The little nation pulled a face that reminded of the familiar scowl England would wear when things weren't going the way he wanted.

America couldn't help but feel a bit dumbfounded. England... couldn't say the "r"? Wasn't Japan supposed to be the one who struggles with that? Alright, so America was going to have to help England out here. But how do you teach someone to say the "r" who can barely say words?

"Um okay, so you have an issue with this r. Let's see... ah, try curling your tongue when you say the "a"." America demonstrated, hoping England would understand. The child looked at him intently and tried repeating it.

"A-ashe... ashh..." England tried his best but just couldn't reproduce the same sound as America did.

America sighed impatiently. How could saying a simple "r" be so difficult? "Look England, this is my tongue, right?" He stuck out his tongue and pointed at it. When he was sure England was fully paying attention to his movements he continued, "Now curl your tongue and say "arrr", like a pirate. C'mon Iggy, you used to be a pirate, this should be easy."

England regarded him silently and he repeated America's movements. He opened his mouth soundlessly and when he closed it again he curled his tongue. He attempted it again, but this time with sound.

"A-arrr..." England uttered quietly, finally making the sound that eluded him so much. America leaned forward slightly, curious if England would try and say his name correctly now.

England looked at America and finally said, "A-ame-ree-kah."

"You did it!" America cried joyfully, effectively causing England to shrink back in surprise at the sudden outburst. America grinned and pulled England into a hug, almost crushing him.

He only let go when he heard a muffled complaint from the smaller nation. England let out a little huff, staring at America a bit warily but at the same time with interest. He couldn't help but wonder why this nation seemed so familiar to him. And not because he resembled Canada...

"Now that you can say my name right, let's see if you can say your own name." America proposed brightly. He pointed to himself and said slowly, "America." Then he pointed to England and said, "England."

England watched America's attempt to explain something to him but he was not sure why. Why was he pointing at him and saying "England"? Then he realized what America had meant when he pointed at himself and said, "America."

_M-mie... n-nay-meh...? _

"I-ing-la-and?" England repeated uncertainly. He suddenly experienced a flash of memory where a far-off voice called loudly, "England!" When the flash was gone England finally understood it. His name was England and the nation in front of him was America. But there seemed to be something more behind these names... why did they seem so significant?

America had been luckily paying attention to England and so saw the minute change in England's eyes. Of course America was confused when he saw England's eyes widen and cloud over with something America couldn't really describe. Then when the eyes had returned to normal they seemed a little bit different. Less blank than before...

Unfortunately England still seemed completely clueless at what was happening around him. America realised that Canada had been right, England really needed help to recover his memories. America remembered why he had been so angry against England.

"You know, I still haven't really forgiven you for that little "stunt" you almost pulled off." America's voice sounded accusing, crossing his arms. England stared at him and seemed to notice the change in tone.

America scowled a little bit before he sighed. What was the point being angry with England when said nation probably didn't remember why he had even tried to commit suicide? He wouldn't understand why the American was angry with him. America felt a bit guilty. He shouldn't be angry with this England... he would have to wait until England got his memories back before confronting him with it again.

Right now, his actions were silly and totally unheroic. Wasn't he the hero? So he should help England recover damn it! America smiled with renewed vigour, fully focused on his mission.

"Okay England, let's see if I can teach you the alphabet! That should start you off easily. Say it after me, "a"."

England cocked his head to one side curiously. America prompted him again, "C'mon Artie, "a"."

"Ay?"

"Good enough!" America declared. "Now, say "b"!"

"B-buh...bee?"

"Yup, now the "c"!"

"Ss-see."

"And the "d"!"

"Dee."

* * *

The sun was setting as America brought England to the spare bedroom which would now be his temporarily. The little child had finally fallen asleep, the letters of the ABC floating in his mind.

It hadn't taken that long to remind England of the alphabet although he had struggled with some of them. And then England had continued to recite them, determined to get them the way America said them. _Ever the perfectionist_, America noted with amusement.

As he tucked England in, he brushed away some strand of hair that covered England's forehead. America couldn't help but admit how cute England was. On top of that he didn't yell and curse and get angry over little things. But on the other hand England was too silent for America, too expressionless. Hopefully England would recover quickly.

America stood up and walked out of the room, now in the mood for some late-night game playing. Japan had recently given him a cool-looking one and America was looking forward to trying it out.

About half an hour later England's peaceful slumber became disturbed. England frowned and shook his head and gripped the sheets around him tightly. He jolted awake gasping out loud.

The island nation sat up and tried shaking the feeling off. It was once again an unknown feeling but England didn't like it. He didn't like how this feeling made something in his chest clench painfully and made his heart beat too quickly.

England took in a sharp intake of breath as a searing pain ripped through his body, specifically focussing on his chest. In a blink of an eye the pain was gone. England lay back down on his side and curled into a little ball.

This was not the first night England was woken up by... what was the name for it anyway? He always saw images but never remembered them when he woke up. Sometimes they were bad enough that England would have great difficulty falling asleep again.

Seemed like it would be one of those nights again... England sighed, closing his eyes and tried to fall asleep again.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

And there! I tried my best to keep things simple but I didn't really manage to do that, da? I might give the impression of moving quickly now that I've changed from Canada to America. Don't worry, Canada will not disappear. I will come back to him in later chapters. I also had fun writing the scene with Russia and England, I like the not-totally-psycho side of Russia. I also have a weird liking for having someone sleep on my shoulder or something of the sort. I myself never fall asleep so easily but I've been used on many occasions as a make-shift bed. ^^

Some explanations:

That suicide rate by country list can be found on Wikipedia, I was quite surprised by some of the countries' placement in the list. I cannot say how accurate my information is about the causes of suicide. I really did look it up on a lot of internet sites and I settled for a site that probably gave me what seemed to be a quite accurate explanation of what causes can lead people to commit suicide. But still, don't rely completely on what I wrote, I may not be 100% accurate.

The French book I mentioned does actually exist, my mother has is. But I totally made up those summaries. The book isn't completely based on that, but it does cover some ground in that area. But the book focuses more on the relationships between family, friends and couples. But there is another book that talks of illnesses like that. You know, finding causes for why exactly are you falling ill. When I first came to Hetalia, it quickly caught my attention and interest that England fell quite often sick, more than the others I think. And though there might be the jokes that England has a faulty immune system or he just can't stay healthy because of the food he eats, I also considered his emotional condition. It must be really bad if England is so prone to illnesses. And there's also the 4th of July... it's canonically stated that England's "condition" collapses during that week. Yup, I'll take a closer look at that in a later chapter. ...In a chapter where England can talk. ^^

I also want to attract your attention on this: we all know that it is bad to stay stuck in the past, but is it any better to completely ignore the past and move forward, leaving things unsaid and unsolved? So, a bit like trying to escape an uncomfortable past event. I kinda see America that way, he constantly wants to move forward without ever looking back while England seems almost incapable of moving forward without looking back all the time. Just how I interpret it, I get the feeling sometimes that America gets uncomfortable when reflecting on those old memories.

So, hope you enjoyed this chapter! ^^ I don't think it needs translations this time. Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

He he... I blame university applications for my absence! *points accusatory finger at them* Blah, and they're still not finished... which is sadly why this chapter is so short. Anyway, hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Hetalia and the characters don't belong to me!

* * *

Chapter 11

"Hey England, I'm back!" America called out as he entered his home. Hard to believe it, but on a freaking Saturday morning America had gotten a call from his boss asking him if he could drop by with some important files.

Not knowing how long it would take, America had put England in front of the television and put beside him a couple pieces of paper and pencil just to keep England occupied for a while. America hoped in wouldn't take him too long and had hurried out.

Turned out that it took about 3 hours since the boss thought it was a good time to discuss with America with improving international relationships with the other countries. After a while America had managed to finally excuse himself and go home.

When he went to the living room, the television was still on but England was nowhere to be seen. However as he turned the television off, America noticed that England had also scribbled some things on the paper America had given to him.

From afar it just looked like a bunch of random lines scribbled together. But as America looked closer, he noticed that some of the lines resembled... letters? America picked a page up and studied it. Yes, he could make out a shaky "P" here and a weird "f" there although it mostly remained unreadable.

England had been attempting to remember how to write during America's absence? America chuckled, glad to see that England trying his best to recover all the knowledge he had lost. Speaking of which, where was the little nation? America left the room in search of the island nation, wondering where England could have gone.

He eventually found England in the kitchen, sitting on the floor and staring at the window.

"There you are England!"

England turned around, looking surprised but then replied quietly, "A-ame-ree-kah."

America grinned happily and crouched beside England. "Whatcha doing here?"

As if understanding the question, England turned his head and looked towards the window again. America followed his gaze, not sure he understood. Did England want to look out the window?

He picked England up and placed him on the kitchen counter, just in front of the window. Turned out that it was exactly what England wanted as he crawled closer to the window to look outside.

"Why do you want to look outside? There's nothing really interesting, just my garden and... oh, it's started to rain?" America asked as he in turn also looked out of the window.

The morning had started quite grey but America hadn't really considered that it would rain. Luckily that he had come home before it started, or else he would have been drenched. He noticed how interested England seemed to be with the rain. He was staring at it intently, as if he was trying to decipher a code.

England looked back at America and asked, "R-ray-enn?"

The American nodded, "Yep, that's rain. You know what that is, right? It's water that falls from the sky? I don't have a better explanation." Suddenly he was struck with an idea. He opened the window and caught a couple of raindrops in the palm of his hand.

America pulled his hand back and closed the window. He showed the raindrops to England. "Look, it's just water. Nothing too special about it, huh?"

England carefully reached out and touched the drops. He murmured, "W-woe-ter." He then turned his gaze back to outside and continued staring at the rain with interest. America sighed. What was so interesting about rain for England?

A loud grumble from his stomach told America that it was time for lunch. America didn't really feel like cooking today. England looked back at America curiously at the sound and a faint echo of America's grumble came from his own stomach. America gave a short laugh. Seemed like both were hungry.

"We'll have Chinese take-away, alright?" America asked while he ruffled England's hair. England raised an arm to swat America's hand away. America just grinned in response and went to the hallway to make the order.

When he returned a couple of minutes later to the kitchen, England was nowhere to be found. America pouted, wasn't disappearing into the nothingness Canada's specialty? Where could England have gone?

As he looked around he suddenly wondered: How in the world did England get down from the kitchen counter without making a sound? England was too small, trying to climb down from the counter would have amounted to him falling and America certainly would have heard him. So where was he?

A creaking noise was his answer. America turned around and cursed loudly.

The window. America hadn't closed it properly.

He approached the window and looked outside, calling loudly, "England, are you out there?"

The rain was pouring, making it difficult for America to make out anything. But after a while he managed to spot a form in his garden that did not quite belong there. England had his back turned to America and was staring upwards into the sky, not at all disturbed by the fact that he was drenched to the skin.

"England!" America called but got no response. He frowned and left the window. America opened his back door and strode out into the rain, up to the little form of England.

"England!" America whined crossly, bending down and picking the little nation up. He glared at England and reproached, "When I call you then answer me!"

The island nation flinched at America's angry tone. America grumbled, "Now both of us are soaking wet! You can really be troublesome England." He turned around and started walking back to the house.

Now and again, America noticed England still staring at the rain. America rolled his eyes. What was so significant about rain? It was just boring water falling from the sky! Why was England so inter...

...Oh.

America blinked as the idea struck him. He looked at England worriedly and asked, "Does the rain remind you of something?"

England just looked at him silently. His eyes were showing him confusion but also some sense of familiarity. As if the rain was reminding him of something but he didn't know what exactly. America dearly hoped England wouldn't remember that specific time when it had rained, where America had broken free from England.

Not that America was a coward (he IS the hero after all) but he really didn't want to be faced with this memory so soon. It would surely hurt England again having to remember it and he would certainly be more bitter about it than ever. He just knew that England would hate him again after that.

For now, America was happy having England like that. Let him be unknowing just a while longer.

Once back inside, America changed his and England's clothes for dryer ones and he dried England's hair. The island nation was completely soaked to the skin and had started to shiver from the cold.

"Your own fault England. You better not fall sick 'cause my birthday is in just two days." America chided softly but he really couldn't be angry with England. Right now England looked positively adorable with his even messier, slightly fluffy, hair. He also seemed quite drowsy, underlining that statement by yawning.

America sighed and smiled tiredly, "Aww man England, you really make it hard for me to stay angry with you. Especially since you probably don't understand a single thing that I'm saying." He picked up England and took him to his room. As an after-thought America added, "The fact you can't reply also changes some things. I kinda like you like that..."

Of course he got no response from England. But that was fine. America was weary from all the fights that they've had in the past and they had fought each other almost every time they met.

Sure, maybe England was too quiet but he was recovering. Slowly but surely.

England's eye lids were drooping sleepily and he easily slid off into a peaceful slumber. America couldn't help but smile fondly at the little sleeping nation.

If only he could remain peaceful like that all the time.

* * *

Darkness. Numbness. Hopelessness.

England stared around him, trying to figure out where he was. Until an ear-splitting noise shook his world upside down violently. England scrambled to get away from the noise but it seemed to be everywhere. Each of them were louder and closer to him.

Fear. England was feeling scared. The noise was deafening and he soon started to hear inhuman screeching. Suddenly there was light everywhere, blinding the little nation.

England woke up with a small cry. He felt a burning sensation on his side that caused England to whimper but after a few long minutes the pain had vanished. England let out a harsh breath, his body trembling.

Never had those images looked so real, so terrifying. England was aware that he was still shaking in fear, the noise still echoing in his head. What did these images mean? Why were they always haunting him? Causing him to lose so much sleep he had to catch up during the day?

There were no answers to his questions. But England knew one thing: he definitely wouldn't be able to fall asleep again. He was still trembling and fear clutched at his heart. The images were still too clear in his mind. The most infuriating thing was that he couldn't exactly describe those images. They were just... there. And they were terrifying.

England... didn't want to be alone. The darkness around him suddenly seemed so hostile and dangerous. England shivered, starting to feel cold. Looking around him, England wished now more than ever that someone was there for him.

Where was America?

The small nation crawled to the edge of the bed, wondering how he could get down. Seeing no other solution, England threw down his pillow and jumped off the bed. After successfully landing on the pillow, England stood shakily up and went to the door.

Luckily America had left the door open slightly, making it easy for England to slip past it and make his way into the hall. For a moment England felt a little lost when it occurred to him that he did not know where America's room was.

Somehow he was struck by random images of a bedroom where America slept in and instinctively England turned to face the stairs. He had a strange feeling telling him that he would find the American up past the stairs.

He couldn't help but gape when he approached the stairs. In the images he had just seen they hadn't seemed so big. Strange. It was already a struggle to scramble up the first step. But England was determined and his fear probably helped as well to keep him pushing onwards.

It took a while but at long last England reached the top of the stairs. He looked down the dark hallway, hearing faint snoring from the other nation. England walked towards the sound, finding some comfort that America was nearby and that he wasn't alone with the darkness.

Pushing open the door to America's room, England slowly walked inside. Sure enough, he could see America sleeping in his bed, snoring quite loudly. England called out softly, "Ame-ree-kah?"

When America failed to respond, England walked around to the side of the bed where one of America's arms was dangling from the bed. He gripped the hand of the American and started tugging on it insistently. What could he do to awaken America?

America grunted and started to roll over. Before England could let go of America's hand, he was pulled up by America onto the bed. Luckily for England America hadn't rolled completely or else he would have been crushed by the bigger nation.

Now that England was closer to America, he felt at ease. Nothing bad could happen to him here. America showed no signs of waking up and he continued sleeping soundly on his side.

With England now facing him, the island nation noticed how the lack of glasses made America seem a lot more familiar to England than before. Yet he still couldn't tell how he knew that. He just simply did.

Crawling closer to America England snuggled himself to America's chest, fully appreciating the sense of security and warmth he felt. Like this, England could return to his sleep and hopefully he wouldn't be woken again by the terrifying images.

Sighing tiredly, England slipped back into a slumber.

* * *

"Alright England, that's how an "E" looks like." America explained, writing an "E" on England's paper. The smaller nation looked at it closely and then taking his pencil, attempted to copy what America had written.

America leaned back, grinning widely. This was turning out to be more fun than he expected. There had been nothing interesting to watch on the television and suddenly England came up, holding paper and a pencil, and managed in some way to pass the message to America that he wanted to relearn how to write.

England was sure full of surprises and it caught America off guard sometimes at how quickly England learned. It was just so easy to forget that England was not a little kid but a nation stuck in the body of a kid and couldn't remember anything.

America had certainly been surprised when he woke up that morning to find England sleeping beside him. He had no idea how England managed to find him and unfortunately he would have to wait until England had the words to tell him how.

Right now though, America enjoyed being England's "mentor". The reversal of their roles had never felt so clear to America. America quietly wondered how embarrassed England would be once he got his memories back to learn that America was teaching him his own language again. Knowing England, he would probably start yelling at America. And maybe blush too. America never understood why it was so easy to make England blush. Maybe because of his pale skin?

He felt tugging at his sleeve. America looked up and saw England showing to him his attempts of an "E". America smiled happily.

"That's great England! That one actually looks like "E"! Now, try doing this one." He took the pencil and wrote "F" and handed the pencil back. England studied it a while before taking his pencil and getting to work again.

America watches England for a while thoughtfully. He was sitting cross-legged on the ground and facing England who was sitting on the couch, busy with learning how to write again. America was almost at eye-level with England which gave him the opportunity to observe England's facial expressions.

It was one thing that had been on America's mind for a while. England's expressions mostly ranged from confused, surprised, curiosity to simply neutral. Not a very wide range of emotions in America's opinion. He considered whether England couldn't remember his other feelings. How could he remind England of his other expressions? He didn't like seeing England with always a blank face. Even an angry England would be some comfort.

"You know England, you should smile more." America murmured softly, knowing that this was the expression America saw the least and probably missed the most.

England looked up from his paper, his face blank again but his eyes showing a spark of curiosity. America tried explaining.

"You know, smile. Like I do." He gave England a big smile, hoping England would understand him. But England only furrowed his eyebrows, clearly not understanding what the American wanted from him.

"Come on, do it like me." America encouraged. An idea struck him suddenly. America leaned forward and used his index fingers to pull the corners of England's lips into a smile.

England's brow furrowed, his eyes questioning the American's actions. He leaned away from America. England felt his lips, not understanding what America had been trying to make him do.

"Aw come on England, you used to smile so much once. I know you can smile." America pouted, wondering how he could make England smile. He stood up and turned around. America leaned back so that he was staring at England upside down.

America laughed, "When I look at you like that you actually look like you're smiling." England stared at America in confusion. America grinned and leaned back a little more.

That's when he lost his balance.

He fell onto his back letting out a startled "oomph". _Well, that hadn't been very clever..._ America thought. Then he heard a sound.

America sat up and looked at England in surprise. England was looking at him and laughing. Sure, it sounded more like a soft chuckle but England was laughing! America couldn't believe his eyes or ears.

"You think this kind of stuff is funny? So you also have a simple humour like the rest of us." America grinned widely, clearly proud of himself. England had always declared that he couldn't stand it when America was being "silly" as it was below him to find any of it amusing. Yet here he was, laughing over something "silly" that America had done!

England was calming down but a smile still lingered on his lips. His eyes still shone with mirth.

"That's exactly what I was looking for England! You finally look happy!" America stated cheerfully.

"Hap-ee." England repeated, his expression turning to thoughtful.

"Oh no, keep that smile England! I don't see often enough." America hastily said. Then he grinned as he got another idea. He picked England up and lay back on his back, holding England up high with his hands. The little nation blinked in surprise.

"Now you're a pilot England! Make sure you don't fall!" America laughed loudly.

England seemed quite confused to be in the position he was currently in, his thick eyebrows drawn downwards as he tried to understand what the American wanted from him again. He started to struggle slightly, wanting to get down. America looked at him, not fully understanding what England wanted.

When England was unable to pass the message to America, the little nation looked at America and let out a small huff of frustration. He made a small sound behind his throat, trying to convey to America his dislike to being held like this, to be unable to move. The message finally hit home and America sat up suddenly with a swing, holding England securely.

"You don't like heights too much, do you?" America asked curiously, looking at England. In response the island nation buried his face into America's shirt. Which wasn't really an answer but then again England had probably not understood his question.

America let out a sheepish laughter, "Heh, sorry Iggy. I guess you're a pirate at heart, not a pilot."

But who could have known that England didn't like heights as much as America? Anyway, England used to do that a lot to America when he was just a small colony and America had absolutely loved it.

...Then again America loved being a pilot. He shouldn't compare himself too much with England. After all, they were quite different from each other. ...And maybe he shouldn't be so forceful to make England smile. It's just that he liked England's smile, there was something endearing about it. Those radiant smiles of England were what America missed the most from his colonial days. The rare smiles England had nowadays were just a broken version.

And now... England had smiled that smile again. A genuine radiant one, not the broken one. America was determined to see it again.

He held England closer, snuggling him a little bit.

England smiled at the warmth.

* * *

Aww, wasn't that sweet? (maybe a bit too fluffy...?) Ah well, you guys are probably going to kill me anyway for what I'm going to do in the next few chapters. ^^; Keep in mind, the story will end well and with USUK. It's just... England's ride to recovery will pass through a bumpy road, you can't really expect a smooth road with this story. I'll try to make this story as interesting as possible and try to not derail from it (currently that is my biggest fear).

I'll try to update soon but I can't promise miracles. One of my teachers said last week, "These following 6 months are going to be THE most important months of your entire LIFE!" With that kind of statment, I can only wonder how much time I will be able to dedicate to Hetalia. Ha, I want to see those guys try and keep me off the computer with the unreasonable amount of homework and tests they're giving me! I won't give in easily!

Anyway, hoped you liked this chapter! ^^


	12. Chapter 12

I really apologise for my absence, many things like school, sickness and writer's block made it really difficult for me to write this chapter. And the fact that this chapter is quite hard didn't help me at all. Anyway, time to finish the fluffyness sadly... England can't escape his history after all.

Hope you all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Hetalia and the characters don't belong to me.

* * *

Chapter 12

Today was the big day. America could practically feel it in every single bone of his body. It was finally his awesome birthday!

He spent most of the morning preparing for the party, most of the nations were due to come around mid-day. After he was sure that everything was ready for the party, he turned his attention to England.

The little nation had been following him around curiously, looking with interest at what America had been doing. America was looking forward to the party and there was another plus: England was there!

How many times had England failed to appear for his birthday? Countless of times and America never really understood the reason why. Sure he knew that England was still bitter about the revolution but was it really reason enough to never come to America's birthday?

...Maybe he shouldn't try to answer that question. Anyway, England had come once though his gift for America had been anything but nice. Well, after the boxing glove there had been something else... but America couldn't remember what it was. He would have to look for it later.

He looked down at England and he grinned happily. "Ya know Iggy, it's my birthday today! Perfect weather to celebrate my party outside, don't you think?"

England, though not understanding what was going on, returned America's grin with his own smile. America seemed to like his smiles a lot and it made England feel great too. The little nation wondered why it felt like he smiled rarely. Was it just a feeling?

The island nation tried understanding what America was telling him but apart from a couple of words he caught here and there, he still struggled. At least the individual words started to slowly become clearer and now England could follow the tone of the voice, knowing what America was feeling more or less.

Yes, it had been incredibly difficult for England before to even understand what the other nations were feeling when they were talking to him. England simply couldn't grasp what emotion the others were feeling. Now he understood a bit better and whatever America was talking about, he was really happy about it.

His energy and smile happened to be quite infectious too. Every time America smiled now England just felt like smiling too.

The American flashed him another grin and was off again. England followed quickly, determined to keep up with the bigger nation. They went outside into the sun and England enjoyed the warmth the sunrays gave him on the skin. It was something different from the rain.

"Hey Canada!"

England turned around to see America greet another nation. He suddenly recognized the other nation. Canada! England broke into a warm smile and quickly went towards the Canadian. England hugged Canada's leg, calling out happily, "Kah-nah-dah!"

Canada blinked in surprise as he looked down at the island nation. Was this the same Brit Canada had been taking care off just a couple weeks ago?

He laughed softly, "Seems like someone is happy to see me." He bent down to pick up England. The little nation was smiling at him.

"Looks like some of America has rubbed off on you." Canada noted in amusement. He then looked back at America and asked, "How much has he recovered?"

America smiled and shrugged nonchalantly, "Quite a bit. He moves about more and he's also sometimes trying to talk. Well, he mostly repeats words I say. Oh, and he's also relearning how to write."

"Wow, that much? That's great to hear." Canada mused. He then rummaged in his pocket and extracted a wrapped gift.

Canada then gave the present to America, saying, "By the way, happy birthday America!"

America accepted the gift and excitedly unwrapped it. He let out a low whistle, "Wow, a new Iphone! How did you know that I wanted a new one?"

"I know you quite well?" Canada proposed, smiling at his brother.

"Konnichiwa America-san and Canada-san."

Both brothers turned around to face Japan who was walking towards them. He calmly handed America his present and said with a gentle smile, "Otanjou-bi Omedetou Gozaimasu Amerika-san."

America beamed, "Thanks Japan, though I have no idea what the hell you just said. I just hope this isn't one of your weird comics..."

"Oh, no, no, rest assured America-san, they're the new games I mentioned to you." Japan hastily replied, shaking his head. England regarded the smaller Japanese man with interest. Japan noticed England's stare and turned his attention to him.

"Ah, konnichiwa England-san. I apologise, I didn't notice you at first." Japan greeted quietly. England looked at Japan and then turned to America with questioning eyes.

"That's Japan England. He's a really good friend of mine." America explained.

"Juh...-ja-pah-nnn." England echoed slowly, turning his gaze back to Japan.

Japan blinked in surprise. "Oh, he seems to be recovering quite a bit, yes?"

America shrugged, "Yeah, but he still doesn't remember any of us."

"All in good time America." Canada sighed and when England started to struggle to be released, he put the little nation down. Canada looked thoughtful for a while before asking Japan, "Would you be also willing to take care of England for a couple of days?"

America jolted slightly at the question, "Ehh, why are you asking Japan that Canada?"

Japan looked similarly surprised as well. "I wouldn't mind but may I ask why?"

"I just think England needs to be around the nations he is quite close with. You and England are good friends and I thought that maybe England would remember something being with you." Canada reasoned.

Before America could reply to Canada's (ridiculous) reasoning, he heard a chorus of voices behind him. He turned around to see quite a big group of nations arriving into the garden. Among them America clearly recognized a bouncing Italian next to a slightly exasperated German.

"Ve, buon compleanno America!" Veneciano called out cheerfully, followed by many other voices. America laughed out loud.

The party could begin!

* * *

France was sitting on a chair outside, enjoying his usual glass of wine. Suddenly a shadow fell over him and France looked up to see who it was.

"Prusse?" France asked, squinting at the person who stood in front of the sun.

"Der Ein und Einzige!" Prussia declared loudly, grinning confidently. He sat down on the grass beside France. "This party geil oder was?"

"I think it's good." France answered simply, regarding Prussia with a raised eye-brow. He had a good feeling what Prussia was going to say next.

"Of course not as awesome as me, but I gotta hand it to Amerika, he sure knows how to throw a party."

France sighed inwardly, the narcissistic ex-nation never failed to mention at least once a day how awesome he was.

"Hola Francia y Prusia!" A voice called from behind them.

Both nation and ex-nation looked to see a cheerful Spaniard approach them with a grumpy-looking Italian tagging along. As both sat on the grass as well, Spain cheerfully stated, "It has been a while, ¿no?"

France smiled, "Oui, I've been busy quite lately, mais c'est toujours comme ça. Especially before the summer holidays."

Prussia smirked and leaned back in the grass, "Ha suckers, I don't have these kind of worries anymore. I have good ol' West who does everything."

"Eso no es muy agradable Prusia." Spain lectured half heartedly to which Prussia shrugged.

They were silent for a while, lost in their thoughts.

"Have you two seen little Angleterre?" France suddenly asked, turning to Prussia and Spain.

"Sí, I think I've seen him around. He's really all small and harmless, not like he used to be. He's almost as cute as Romano was when he was younger." Spain replied lightly, just to earn himself a punch in the shoulder from Romano who had been ignoring the trio. Then the Italian promptly went back to ignoring them.

"It sucks that he doesn't remember any of us, even me, the awesome Prussia! Can you imagine that?" Prussia whined, sitting up and crossing his arms.

"Well, Chine did say we had to give him time to recover all his memories." France added, though he himself wasn't too happy that England still didn't recognize him.

Prussia huffed slightly, "Come off it Frankreich, England has been in this state since... what, two months already? It's a bit with a person who is in a coma, the longer it takes them to wake up, the smaller chance they have to ever wake up."

"But Inglaterra isn't in a coma..." Spain commented slowly, looking at Prussia with uncomprehending eyes.

"He's practically in one. If he doesn't recover his memories soon, he might never recover at all." Prussia threw his arms in the air dramatically.

"And what do you suggest we do alors?" France asked cooly.

"Aw come on guys, aren't we the Bad Touch Trio? I think this is a perfect mission for us to do!" Prussia exclaimed, looking at his friends expectantly.

"But what should we do? How can we make a nation remember his memories?" Spain asked, seeming a bit lost.

Prussia grinned and answered, "Two words: shock therapy!"

"Quoi?" France looked at Prussia helplessly, "I'm not sure I follow you..."

"I've seen it on TV before and it works! We just basically remind England of a period he is quite touchy about and the shock will cause him to regain all the other memories at once." Prussia explained enthusiastically.

"But Prusia, I still don't know how we will-" Spain started to say before Prussia cut him off impatiently.

"Look, what time period is England most touchy about?"

France quickly answered, "The American War of Independence naturellement."

"So logischerweise, if we showed England something that would remind him from that time, the shock will cause him to remember everything else. It's as simple as that!" Prussia exclaimed, grinning at his awesome plan. It was totally awesome, wasn't it?

"But... wouldn't that hurt Inglaterra again?" Spain asked uneasily.

"That's why it's called shock therapy." Prussia answered.

* * *

"Did you find it Frankreich?" Prussia asked quietly.

"Oui, finalement. Amérique should really clean out his storage room, it's a complete mess! And full of dust!" France complained as he slipped out of the room. He was carrying a musket.

"Why do you need a musket?" Spain looked at France in confusion.

"It's the musket that Amérique used in the last battle. I recognize it from the strange scratch that it has, Amérique mentioned it to me once. If there is something that would remind Angleterre of the revolution, then it's definitely that musket." France explained, slowly tracing the scratch on the musket.

"Alright, so we all know how the plan goes, right?" Prussia looked at France and Spain. He grasped the little yellow chick that was nestled in his silver hair. Holding the little bird, Prussia said, "Okay, so Gilbird here will fly over and attract England's attention and lure him into the house. Frankreich, you leave the musket here for England to find. Einfach, isn't it?"

"Just... why are we being so secretive about it?" Spain asked, still not fully following.

Prussia let out a sigh of exasperation and muttered under his breath "Mein Gott!"

"For once," France admitted, "I have to agree with Prusse. If we were to take the musket outside, many nations might react badly at the sight of a weapon and on top of that, Amérique probably will be really annoyed at us for snooping in his storage room."

"Ah okay, I think I understand." Spain nodded enthusiastically.

"About time too." Prussia muttered before looking at the bird settled in the middle of his palm. He grinned widely at it, "Geh Gilbird, now it's your turn to be awesome!"

* * *

England walked among the nations, trying to figure out why some of the nations seemed familiar to him when he was sure he had never met them. He couldn't place why so many of them seemed so familiar to him, he didn't even know their names to begin with. Some of the nations would stop shortly and talk to England.

The little nation tried his best to understand what the nations were saying and to some point he was actually doing well. He understood that most of the nations were asking him if he could recognize them and if he was feeling alright.

Of course having no idea how to respond, England would just stare at the nations and smile at them. He did wonder why they always asked him if he was feeling alright. He did feel okay but he couldn't help but wonder why the nations were asking him that question. And why did they all seem to expect from him to recognize them. This situation was becoming stranger and stranger to him.

After a while England left the crowd of nations to go rest a bit on the grass. He was feeling rather tired already. It was then he spotted a little yellow chick sitting just a couple of steps away from him. England regarded it with interest and stood up slowly.

When he made a move towards the bird, it hopped a couple of steps further from England. But it did not fly away. England took a couple of steps forward towards the bird again. The bird hopped away again.

The process was repeated a couple more times before it occurred to England that the bird wanted him to follow it. This surprised England but also piqued his interest. Where did the bird want him to go?

He continued following the yellow bird until it led him back to America's house. This did cause England to question where the bird was trying to lead him to. What was in America's house that was so interesting? He continued following the bird nevertheless into the house.

By then the bird had started to flap its wings. England tried following it as quickly as he could but the bird was soon high in the air and was flying around the corner.

England turned around the corner into the hallway. He looked up but no trace of the bird could be found. England had lost sight of the bird. Frowning slightly, he turned to leave the hallway.

But not before he spotted something unusual on the floor. England turned around to regard it. It didn't seem to belong here, on the floor, in the middle of the hallway. England walked towards it warily.

What exactly was that thing? England could not recognize it. As he got closer to it England sat down on his knees and reached out for it. He failed to notice three shadows looming around the next corner of the hallway, three pairs of eyes staring at him intently.

England ran his hand on the curious object in fascination. It looked quite old and was made out of wood and metal. The cold metal was shaped like a long rod. England wondered what purpose it had. He tried blowing the dust off of the object, wondering where it must have been to collect so much dust.

Then something interesting caught his eyes. England observed the deep scratch mark in the wood of the object. He warily touched it, running a finger up and down it slowly. Where had that mark come from? And... what was the feeling that was filling him right now?

Dread. He was feeling dread. A distant voice rang in England's head. But it was too far away for England to make out what was being said. A moment later another voice called out.

"_I want my independence!"_

England frowned at these words. Who was saying that and why did it seem to pain England to hear it? What was so significant about this mark on the object?

... A musket. England blinked in surprise as his brain finally found the correct word for the object. But that still didn't explain why it seemed so important! Why did it seem more familiar the more he looked at it? He touched the mark again.

"_You are a part of the British Empire!"_

England winced at the harsh words. Who was saying that and why did that voice also seem familiar? Who was this British Empire? Or is? He carefully touched the mark again.

"_You belong to me!"_ The same voice hissed venomously.

So, this mark was making England hear voices? Or was the musket causing his brain to try and awaken a memory that England couldn't get his grasp on? Something in his mind was telling him to let the musket go, warning him that something bad was going to happen.

Ignoring the warnings, England touched the mark again curiously. A loud angry voice yelled, _"I will be a free nation!"_

Who was that person?

"_You cannot win the war brat!"_

Who were these two people? Why were they fighting? England looked down at the musket and frowned. What was their connection to this mark on the musket?

"_YOU ARE NOT MY BROTHER!"_

England flinched visibly at those hateful words. Why did these words seem to hurt him so much? England felt his heart tighten painfully for an unknown reason. A voice in his head, now louder than ever, was insisting to stop here. To not push England's memories further. England disregarded the voice and touched the mark again.

It suddenly all rushed back to England.

_The rain was falling heavily. _

_Shouts and yells over the battlefield._

_Gunshots and running. _

_A cry of defiance. A harsh reply of denial._

_Musket against musket. A loud clash._

_Silence. Blank._

_A mutter of surrender._

_The feeling of mud on his knees._

_Tears running down his cheeks._

"_You used to be so big." _

England opened his eyes wide open with a cry and quickly scrambled away from the musket. Real tears were falling downs England's cheek. He clutched at his chest as England felt his heart clench painfully. The pain was quickly growing stronger. England started sobbing softly, the pain in his heart intensifying.

His back hit the wall as he tried to put more distance between him and the musket. But he couldn't escape the pain in his heart. It grew and grew more unbearable till England couldn't handle it anymore. He scrunched his eyes shut and started wailing loudly as the rush of emotions grew too great for him to handle.

"Scheiße!" Prussia cursed as he jumped from his hiding place. "I didn't think it would be that bad. We have to calm him down before anyone else hears him!"

"But how?" Spain asked in a panicked tone, looking at the little island nation with wide eyes.

France attempted with soothing words to approach England. The smaller nation blindly shrank away, his wails of a pain getting louder and louder. England wrapped his arms around his knees and pulled them closer to his chest, seeking to make himself smaller and to shut out the world.

"Crap, someone is going to hear him soon." Prussia looked worriedly around him, trying to spot if someone had already heard England. The wails echoed down the hallway.

* * *

"...and then you should've seen the face my boss made when I told him that!" America started laughing and the other nations around him laughed at the tale.

"Yeah, my boss is really a great guy but he-" America started to say when he heard someone call him from behind.

"America aru!"

America turned around and saw China approach him. "America, do you know where England is? I've been looking for him but I can't seem to find him."

"England?" America blinked, "But I saw him about 5 mintures ago..." He looked over to the place where he had last seen the little nation but he was nowhere to be found.

"Huh? Where is he?" America scratched his head. He then stopped when he heard it. It sounded like someone was wailing. And it was coming from his house.

He looked at the other nations around him. From their worried eyes America could guess that they were hearing it too. A single name came to America.

"England."

America started to walk quickly towards the house, the nations casting each other worried glances.

* * *

The wailing was just around the corner of the hallway. America hurriedly walked around the corner and stopped in his tracks as he took in the scene.

England was curled against a wall, crying and screaming. France and Spain were trying in vain to calm the little Brit down. Prussia stood on the side, fidgeting and looking nervous. When he looked up and spotted America, he jumped back suddenly.

Prussia's jump caused Spain and France to look up and both reacted similarly by jumping back as well. All three nations looked at America, all a bit fearfully.

America spared them not one glance and watched England with a worried expression. He swiftly walked over to the sobbing nation and wordlessly took England in his arms and embraced him.

England reacted by weakly pushing away and struggling to get out of America's grip, crying harder. America's arms tightened around England, rocking gently to comfort the little nation.

After a while England stopped struggling and finally buried his head into America's shirt and continued crying, his little form trembling from the sobs. America continued to softly rock England back and forth until the sobs were reduced to nothing more but tiny whimpers.

It was only then America looked up to stare at the other three nations who were slowly inching away from the American. America caught sight of the musket on the floor, his musket from the revolution. He narrowed his eyes dangerously.

"What happened?" America asked tensely, having great difficulty to keep his anger in check. His azure eyes were flashing dangerously.

"It was his idea!" Both France and Spain chorused at the same time, pushing Prussia in front of them. Prussia blinked and then glared at the two nations behind him, muttering German curses under his breath.

"Well?" America looked at Prussia with an uncharacteristic ominous glare. Prussia shrank back a bit, frightened by the American despite himself.

"Ah, I was thinking... I thought maybe reminding England of a particular time period... might... make him get all his memories back." Prussia explained lamely. Suddenly his idea didn't sound that awesome anymore.

America's eyes widened and then narrowed again. He felt himself get angrier. England whimpered quietly in his arms. Before America could say anything to Prussia China, who had shortly followed after America, spoke up.

"That was a rather stupid thing to do Prussia. Remind England of the revolution? Didn't you think of the consequences at all?" China admonished sharply, coming to stand beside America.

"...I-I actually d-didn't think it would be that bad." Prussia admitted, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly. "Seriously Amerika, I didn't think it would hurt England so badly."

"We can see the result pretty well." America replied angrily. He looked down at England who was still trembling slightly. America's t-shirt felt all wet and... somehow sticky? Were tears supposed to be sticky? He knew that they were wet and warm...

Something odd caught America's eyes. His t-shirt seemed tinged...

America frowned as he inspected his t-shirt. He carefully held England slightly away from his chest. His shirt... looked tinged red. He then glanced at England who was staring at him with pained eyes. Tears were still falling down his cheeks slowly.

But there was something else a lot more worrying. England's t-shirt, which had been previously blue, was tinged with something darker. America paled as it dawned upon him what it was.

"America...?" China asked uncertainly, worried about the North American nation's silence.

"Blood." America finally whispered hoarsely. He looked at China in panic. "England is bleeding!"

* * *

... GYAHH! *runs away to hide in the corner of her room* Don't kill me! No, England isn't dying, that much I can tell you! A cruel way to cut the chapter but it was becoming too long and would have continued on and on and on...

Also, the "shock therapy" Prussia talks about? Totally bollocks, such a thing never existed. But it just felt right for Prussia to talk about something that wasn't proved right and still insist he saw it on TV. Also, I want you guys to pay attention to how I described England's "memory" of the revolution. What did I miss out?

It's essential that you guys notice that as there's going to be a misinterpretation in the next chapter of it. A rather unfortunate misinterpretation. :(

Here's the translations (there was a lot this time, huh?)

Japanese

Konnichiwa = hello (I do think people should know this one)

Otanjou-bi Omedetou Gozaimasu Amerika-san = Happy Birthday America (according to one site...)

Italian

buon compleanno America = Happy Birthday America

French

Prusse = Prussia

c'est toujours comme ça = but it's always like that

alors = then

Quoi? = What?

naturellement = naturally

finalement = finally

German

Der Ein und Einzige = The one and only (I totally see Prussia say that)

geil = cool

Amerika = do I even have to translate that?

Frankreich = France

logischerweise = logically

Einfach = easy

Mein Gott = My God

Geh Gilbird = Go Gilbird

Scheiße = Shit (one of my favorite German swearwords. I also like the French version of it, "Merde". But I can't say "Shit", the word in English somehow disgusts me. O_o )

Spanish (a bit iffy there, my sister speaks it a bit but we're not sure how correct it is)

Hola Francia y Prusia = Hello France and Prussia

¿no? = no? (err, what is the "¿" supposed to mean really?)

Eso no es muy agradable Prusia = That's not very nice Prussia

Inglaterra = England


	13. Chapter 13

I can safely say that this will be the last chapter of 2010. ^^ I just doubt that I'll have another chapter up before New Years, since for the holidays I'll be going to my aunt's house where I will get little to no access to the computer. But still, I'll continue the story even though exam times will crop up towards the end of January/beginning of February so updates will be as slow as ever. X( Also, I got recently addicted to Hetaoni which doesn't really help my case. (but still, Hetaoni is awesome!)

Right now I don't know how to feel. Things aren't going perfectly well in my life, having issues with my father and homework as usual. I was earlier today in a murderous mood, just wanting to destroy something (or someone X_x). My sister wisely gave me a big plastic bag to take my rage out on it and after I was finished with it... the plastic bag was no more! ^^; So I'm calmer now... just telling you guys this to let out a bit of steam and maybe a warning that sometimes my current state of mind might be felt throughout my chapters. If it feels particularly bitter and dark, you know why! Anyway, this chapter really is not my favorite but it had to be done. (I had to tweak things around a bit and the last segment of the chapter had to be rewritten)

Hope you guys enjoy it, keep in mind that things will get better. I just need to get the story through some dark tunnels at first... make that many tunnels. I'm trying to keep the story interesting at least! X_x

Disclaimer: Hetalia and the characters don't belong to me.

* * *

Chapter 13

England was hurried to the kitchen where America placed him on the table. China quickly took off the blood-soaked t-shirt and carefully pushed the little nation onto his back. England had fallen silent, letting out a weak whimper here and there. His face had become pale.

The surrounding nations all took a deep breath as the source of bleeding was revealed to them. It was a rather deep gash on England's chest, precisely located where the nation's heart was.

The Asian nation inspected the large wound with interest. The gash was bleeding profusely. However China could not guess how that wound had opened up at all. At least it didn't seem fatal but the blood flow had to be stopped.

"That is odd, aru." China murmured thoughtfully, as he was handed a wet cloth, tried to stop the blood from flowing out of the wound.

"Ich schwöre Amerika, we absolutely didn't do anything to England!" Prussia defended quickly as a fuming America turned his attention to the ex-nation. America was still glowering at Prussia, not convinced by the Prussian's words.

"America aru, England's shirt is intact. I doubt it was an external factor that caused this wound." China said calmly, though he looked a bit confused by his own statement. What could have possibly caused the wound?

America turned to China and asked incredulously, "But what else could have done that? It just doesn't make sense." He frowned when he heard England give a small whimper again.

Suddenly China stuttered, "A-America aru! Y-your shirt!" He pointed at America's shirt.

America sighed, "China, I know I have blood on my-"

"No, no, it's fading!" China blurted out impatiently, looking very much surprised. America stared down at his shirt in bewilderment and sure enough, the blood was fading away from the fabric! He then looked over to England.

All eyes followed and settled on England. Every nation watched in silent and morbid curiosity as England's wound seemed to stitch itself together again. It was just a matter of seconds before the gash had closed itself and all the blood that had ever leaked out disappeared, as if it had never been there.

The only thing that was left behind was a scar. Nothing else.

All of a sudden, two or three small cuts opened up along England's chest, as if someone invisible was inflicting them. England let out a small gasp of pain but before the wounds could even bleed, they were sealed off and became mere scars.

There was a long moment of silence as the nations tried understanding what they had just seen. Finally Spain broke silence, shifting awkwardly.

"Well, that was quite extraño."

"Agreed." France nodded slowly.

America was looking at England with fear and worry. What had just happened? None of it made sense and the American was clueless as ever. England turned his head to look at America, confusion and pain radiating from his eyes. America wished he could just scoop up England into his arms and tell him that everything was alright.

But nothing was alright. And so America held himself back.

"America-san?"

The nations in the kitchen turned to see Japan and the ever semi-visible Canada walk towards them. Both wore the same worried expression.

"Is everything alright America-san? The others outside are starting to worry..." Japan asked evenly, looking at America and the other nations.

America was at loss at what he should say. "Err, well, I guess... I mean... I-I'm not sure." America stammered, what else was he supposed to say? Lie and say everything was alright? Yeah, as if Japan was going to buy that.

"What happened to England?" Canada asked worriedly, stepping closer to the table where England was. His eyes widened when he saw the scars, especially the large one on England's chest.

"I could've sworn those scars weren't there before..." Canada murmured thoughtfully.

"Well, they've just appeared now." America said uneasily.

"All of them?" Canada asked in a horrified tone.

"What do you mean by "all of them"?" France looked at Canada curiously.

Canada pointed out, "Look, apart from the scars on England's chest, there are some others on his shoulders and quite a few on his side." Canada frowned and shook his head. "When I was taking care of England there was no trace of scars. Why are they here now?"

"You say he had no scars before aru?" China asked carefully. The Canadian shook his head again.

"Attend... if I look closely at the scars on Angleterre's side, I do think I recognize them. I think they're from the Blitz." France inspected the scars closely. England followed France's movements cautiously.

America protested, "But I thought the Blitz left behind more scars!"

"Non mon chère, you didn't see Angleterre's wounds after the first attack from the Blitz." France replied while shaking his head. He then confirmed, "I'm sure now, they're the scars from the first attack."

China looked thoughtful before he said, "So, the scars that are appearing on England now are the scars he got from past battles? Are there any more scars that are recognizable aru?"

America took a step closer as he tried to recognize another scar. But none of the scars America was familiar with were there. However Canada and France seemed to recognize the scars present.

"I think the big gash and the smaller scars on England's chest all come from America's revolutionary war. I can't recognize the others though." Canada said, with a twinge of unease.

France pointed out the others, "The scars on Angleterre's shoulders and arms are from battles long ago. This is quite surprising because these scars have long disappeared or have been covered by other, more recent scars. Funny seeing them again."

"So, let me get this straight. The scars we're seeing now are the scars England got from his battles and wars?" America asked, feeling a bit lost.

"Which would mean whenever he remembers a memory where there was a battle, he will then regain the scar that he got from that time aru." China assumed.

"But...," Japan finally spoke up, looking disturbed, "England-san has been in a lot of battles and so has many scars. How much pain England would have to endure until every scar that ever was on his body has reappeared?"

All the nations paled as the realization dawned upon them. Prussia let out a loud curse. Spain asked nervously, "Inglaterra is going to relive every moment he was ever wounded?"

"It would seem like it aru." China responded sadly. He took England's t-shirt, which was no longer soaked in blood, and put it back on the island nation. England sat up and looked at the nations surrounding him, his eyes troubled.

America sighed and reached out to pick up the little nation. England immediately responded by moving slowly away from America. He then turned to Canada and held out his arms. The surprised Canadian took England into his arms.

The pain showed on America's face. It hurt to be rejected, oh how it hurt! America never really thought that he would be rejected by England. But it seemed like the day America had wanted to avoid finally came. England remembered and hated America again. That was the end of the story.

He looked up to meet the concerned gazes of the others nations. America tried shrugging it off and smiled bitterly. Who cares! England has always hated me since that time so this shouldn't affect me anymore. It's better that he knows now. A voice in America's head called out.

"Hey, so let's just all return to the party! Everything is fine now anyway!" America stated cheerfully, his voice a little shaky though he tried his best to mask it. He strode out of the kitchen while the other nations followed quietly behind.

Canada lingered at the back, looking at England a bit sadly. Why had England rejected America? Did he remember everything and was now afraid again of being hurt by America? He then caught England staring behind him, as if he was looking for America.

Sighing sadly, Canada reassured the Brit, "England, America is not going to hurt you. You don't need to be afraid."

England gazed back at Canada and swiftly shook his head. Canada was taken aback. Had England just understood the whole sentence? He seemed to. Canada decided to check again.

"Then why did you move away from him?" Canada asked quietly. England looked at him, attempting to register the other nation's question. He looked behind him again, trying to see the American.

He looked back at Canada and then down to his heart. He laid a hand on his heart and returned his gaze up to Canada. After a while Canada finally understood.

"It hurts, doesn't it?"

England could only nod tearfully.

* * *

A couple of hours passed and the party came to an end. Most of the nations bid their good-byes and left for home. However a handful of nations stayed behind to help America with the cleaning up, that being naturally Canada, Japan, Lithuania and a couple of others.

England had settled on the couch and had fallen asleep after a while. America was just passing by the couch when he saw the little nation. He stopped in his tracks and observed England sadly.

As much as he tried to deny it, America saw that England had to be passed on to another nation. England surely hated him, or at least didn't trust him anymore. Staying with America would do him no good. America wished that England hadn't remembered. But that would have been selfish...

When he heard a quiet cough, America turned around to see Japan standing near him. Japan said calmly, "I'm sorry America-san but I better get going before it gets too late for me."

America blinked but quickly laughed, "Oh no Japan, it's okay! Thanks for the help, you really didn't have to stay behind and clean up."

The Japanese man smiled and bowed his head. Suddenly America got an idea.

"Hey Japan?"

"Yes America-san?"

America scratched his head awkwardly, "Do you remember what Canada proposed to you earlier today?"

Japan quickly nodded, "About taking care of England-san, yes?"

"Would it be okay with you to take England with you and take care of him for just a couple of days?" America blurted out hurriedly.

At first Japan looked surprised. "You mean now? Are you sure about this Ame-"

"Yes I'm sure." America interjected quickly. "You and England are very good friends and I think it would be great for him to stay with you for a couple of days. Then you could just pass him on to his brothers or somebody." Just not back to me. America thought privately.

Japan looked at America silently for a moment before nodding his head. "If you say so America-san." He then went over to the little nation and picked him up from the couch. England shifted slightly but did not wake.

The Japanese nation then walked back towards America with England in his arms. America tried to keep his expression neutral when he felt Japan's gaze linger on him, not wanting to betray his sadness with this abrupt decision.

Japan paused beside America, giving the American a chance to reach out and pet England's head lightly. America then smiled and although he opened his mouth to say something, no words came to him. He closed his mouth again, trying to think of something to say.

Finally he simply said, "Thanks Japan."

"No problem." Japan replied quietly, smiling softly. He then walked past America and left the house.

America stood silently for a while, lost in his thoughts. I did this for England's sake. Since he hates me again there would have been no use for him to stay with me. He wouldn't have recovered. Despite all these thoughts, a part of America refused to be convinced.

But what else was there to be done? America sighed heavily. Right now he could not understand his conflicting thoughts.

"Why did you do this?"

Jumping at the sound of another voice, America turned around to see his brother. Canada was looking at him with confusion and sadness. America looked away, the look in Canada's eyes made him uncomfortable.

"Did what?" America tried side-stepping the question.

Canada rolled his eyes slightly. "You know what I mean America. Why did you pass England on to Japan?"

"Because that's what we're supposed to do?" America shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "You yourself said so, England needs the other nations as well in order to recover."

"But...but not like that!" Canada spluttered.

"Like what?" America asked, his tone becoming defiant.

The Canadian ran his hand tiredly through his hair. "Why are you making me drag out everything? Look America, I don't think you should leave things like this. England has just remembered one of the probably most painful memories he has ever had. You have to be there for him."

America frowned and crossed his arms. "What difference would it make? England hates me anyway, he probably won't trust me again."

Canada shook his head, "America, think of this logically. Leaving things unsolved like this will probably regenerate England's grudge towards you-"

"So it will be. I don't really care." America shrugged again, putting up a mask of indifference.

"America, are you just going to give up on England!"

"No! I'm doing this for England's sake!"

"How is this for England's sake?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" America yelled back, face red. Canada looked shocked as he stepped away from the American.

"I don't know." America repeated quietly, frowning. He then shook his head. "Look, this conversation is just stupid. I don't want to talk about it."

The Canadian attempted a last time, "America, you could at least try and mend-"

"I said, I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!" America yelled again, glaring at Canada furiously.

Canada was taken aback by America's reaction. He then sighed and mumbled sullenly, "Well, don't say I didn't try helping you." Canada turned and walked out of the room

America stared after him wordlessly, trying his best to clear his head of all thoughts. He did pass England on to Japan for the Brit's sake.

Didn't he?

* * *

It was much later that night and America was having trouble falling asleep. Why was he so restless? It wasn't so difficult to fall asleep usually.

America sat up in his large bed, rubbing his eyes. Why wasn't he sleepy? Inevitably his mind started to reflect on what had happened today. The day had mostly been good except for... yeah, America didn't really want to think about it too much.

Suddenly a thought occurred to him that he had had earlier that day. England's gift. He remembered that there had been a little present in the box after the punching glove but at that time America had been quite annoyed for having being tricked so easily. So he hadn't really looked or even noticed that gift.

But now he remembered it and he was quite curious about it. What was it? America stood up from his bed and left his room. This search might distract him from his uncomfortable thoughts and perhaps make him sleepier.

Now... where had he put that box last time?

...Probably in the storage room. That's where America put most of his stuff.

He walked down the stairs and went straight to the storage room. America entered the room, carefully trying not to trip over all the objects that had accumulated here over the years.

A nagging voice in his head was telling him he should clean this room up one day. Of course America knew that this would be difficult for him, especially since he had failed all the other times. Stupid memories making him too emotional.

America looked around the room. Though there was no light in the room, America had turned the light in the hallway on and left the door open to let the light in. It was still not the best lighting.

Now, where could he have put the box? There were so many boxes around here that America felt a bit discouraged. But no, he was a hero and heroes never gave up! He wanted to find what England's real gift had been and he was going to find out!

After stepping over various sorts of objects and boxes (half which he had no idea where they had came from) he spotted a box with a punching glove hanging out of it. America smiled triumphantly. Gotcha!

Picking up the box, America pushed the punching glove to the side and felt in the box for a small object. When he finally felt it America eagerly fished it out of the box.

The object was no bigger than his palm. It had been wrapped carefully and America noticed that an envelope was attached to it. Huh, wonder why I didn't notice it in the first place...

America took the envelope and opened it, taking the letter out. He unfolded the letter and began to read what England had written down in his elegant writing.

_America,_

_You are and always will be a git. You and your damn hero complex!_

_... But I guess that's good. The world sometimes needs it._

_Kindest regards,_

_England_

America smiled widely at the letter. It was so typical of England to call America a git, he could practically hear England say the words written in the letter. America kind of missed England's voice. He turned his attention to the object and slowly unwrapped it. He walked out of the storage room to get a better look at it. His eyes widened when he saw the object in a better light.

It was a hand-made wooden Superman! America found it so hard to believe that he broke into a grin. England was always into handmade gifts. Though the wooden figure was not as awesome as a Wii or an Iphone, it was in its own way kinda of cool.

Trailing a finger over the details America regretted of not having opened this gift sooner, preferably on the day he got it from England. It actually meant a lot to America, through this gesture England was finally admitting that America was a hero! How many times had England even acknowledged that?

In a way, it showed that though it was still a bumpy road, England didn't seem to dislike him that much at that point. Too bad this wasn't the case anymore. Now England only remembered the revolution but nothing else.

That would mean that England would hate him more since he doesn't have any good memories before the battle. No, that doesn't make sense... America thought. The reason England was so bitter about the separation was because of the good memories, right? So technically England shouldn't hate him so much.

... So why had England cried? He had never cried this hard, or at least America didn't remember of a time when it had happened. And that deep gash on England's chest. Canada identified it as the scar coming from the time America had become independent.

No, the British Empire couldn't have suffered that much when they lost their colony. So why the deep gash? It was almost as bad as the wounds from the Blitz. Was losing a colony just as bad as being bombed the daylights out by the enemy?

America never heard of England suffering so badly when the other colonies left him. What made America the exception? Because he was the first? Ah, these questions were not doing him any good, especially this late into the night.

He would have to ask another nation about it. Maybe France? The French nation might know something, he did help America during that time.

The only conclusion America could make was that England hated him again, or at least did not trust him anymore. It was back to zero, so to say. That thought kind of depressed America.

He held the wooden Superman tightly in his hand.

* * *

_"We are free!"_

_A familiar voice called out loudly and proudly. A chorus of shouts and yells of triumph could be heard all around. _

_England was silent, his knees and hands in the cold mud. Tears were still trickling down his cheeks despite trying to suppress the sobs and to pass the tears off as the rain._

_He heard the footsteps of many people heading away from him, leaving England alone on the battlefield. As the noise of the people cheering and laughing faded away, England continued crying under the rain._

_Quite abruptly the rain seemed to stop. England did not really notice this until he felt the clouds move away, allowing the bright sunlight to stream in. It washed the battlefield with its dazzling light, making everything gleam and shimmer._

_But it did not comfort England. On the contrary, it made him feel worse. A new emotion was filling England's heart, a stronger and darker emotion than sadness. England closed his eyes and dug his fingers into the mud, the emotion causing his head to reel. _

_As the sun started shining brighter, chasing the clouds from the sky, its sun rays reaching out to touch every corner of the land, the emotion grew stronger and stronger._

_**Well, well... it's British Empire now, isn't it? A pathetic excuse of an empire! **_

_England shook his head, trying to ignore the jeering voice in his head. Why was it back? Couldn't it leave England alone?_

_**Why try to escape from what you are? You just managed to prove to yourself how pathetically weak you are...**_

_"No..." England whispered weakly, curling upon himself and clutching his head, willing the cruel voice away._

_**Can't even keep a mere colony in line... You couldn't even shoot that worthless brat... you're truly a weakling, you're a weakling, you're a weakling, YOU'RE A WEAKLING, YOU'RE A WEAKLING, WEAKLING, WEAKLING, WEAKLING!**_

_Suddenly something inside England snapped._

_Red... red was covering his sight. Red was blinding him. Red was all he saw. _

_Red._

_**Weakling.**_

_...Weakling."_

* * *

____

Hmm, the return of the dark voice! Yeah, did you think I was completely forgetting it? But the presence of it might become more common in the later chapters, not right now. The memory of England might come across to some of you as vague and confusing. That's exactly what I was aiming for. Because actually, an important piece of the memory is missing! But for now, England and you readers will remain unaware of this missing piece of memory.

Now an explanation to my question in the previous chapter. I should have asked the question more like this: In the way I described the memory, what crucial point did I miss out? The way I described the memory is exactly the way England relived it. The answer is: I avoided describing America or England in this memory! I described sensations, but England doesn't know that it was a fight between him and America. England doesn't even think the voices familiar, as he does in the memory above. So the conclusion: England hasn't really remembered the revolution. Only the pain associated to it.

So why does England reject America? And goes towards Canada for comfort? In my opinion, the heart never forgets. England might not have all his memories back but his heart has remained the same, and is able to subconciously recognize who has hurt it and who it still trusts. So England rebuffs America because his heart is hurting and England wants nothing else but for the pain to stop. Our Brit does not realize what his actions might be implying to the others, especially to America. And America misinterprets the reaction of England.

And don't hate on America for making such a hasty decision! Try putting yourself in his shoes and honestly try guessing how you would react in his place. You kinda like this person. You've had a bad fight with this person in the past, where you didn't have your shining moment (and felt also unheroic). That person forgets the memory and has just regained it, reopening the wound. As you try to comfort that person, not only are you rejected but the person seeks comfort from someone else. How would you react to all this?

...That's why I don't really like this chapter. It was really difficult to carry it out, but England needed to be passed on to a calmer nation where he would start regaining more words to express himself better. And it had to make sense to whom America was passing England on to, without going backwards to Canada. Japan and Lithuania were candidates but I finally settled for Japan. So, the people who like AsaKiku, rejoice. But this will still be a predominant USUK story! There will just be a gap for now... well, hope you still like the story! ^^

Tranlations:

German

Ich schwöre Amerika = I swear America

Spanish

extraño = strange


	14. Chapter 14

Hey there, hope you all had a great Christmas and New Year! ^^ Mine was alright, I had some father issues and issues with studying for my exams. Well come on, we get holidays to RELAX, not to continue working like we're robots! I really needed the break but now school will start tomorrow... :( Anyway, I apologize for the wait, I had no access to the computer during the holidays but now I've got a new chapter for you all! ;) AND... I got a laptop yesterday!

Yeah, that's all. Hope you enjoy the first chapter of 2011!

Disclaimer: Hetalia and the characters don't belong to me.

* * *

Chapter 14

Japan sighed sadly as he heard yet another sob from the guest room. The walls of his house were thin, making it therefore very easy for Japan to know what was going on without going to the place to check.

Right now, he knew England was suffering from a nightmare. Perhaps it was a memory from the revolution. Japan really did feel sorry for England, he had many bad memories and it was going to be hard for England to relive all of them. But nothing could be done about it.

Japan wondered what he could start with England. Should he try to get England to remember better memories or show him how to talk again? England would be easier to understand if he had the words to express himself. On the other hand England would continue to be haunted by his recently acquired memories.

A loud cry came from the guest room. Japan looked up from his book. It was silent for a moment and Japan quietly wondered if England was still asleep. He then heard a soft voice call out in a panicked tone.

"A-amee-ree-kah!"

The nightmare had woken England up and now the little nation was probably confused and frightened by the unfamiliar surroundings. Japan stood up and swiftly walked to the guest room. When he walked in he saw England was already out of the bed, looking around in confusion.

Upon hearing Japan enter, England turned to face the other nation warily. Tears were still streaming from his eyes but England attempted to blink through them and see where he was.

"It's okay England-san, I'm Japan. You met me at America-san's party." Japan reassured the confused nation soothingly. England seemed to relax when he recognized Japan and he slowly sunk to his knees. He hung his head and started trembling.

Japan watched England wordlessly as he also sat down on his knees. Quiet sobs started escaping from England's mouth. Without a warning England launched himself at Japan and buried his face into Japan's yukata. He gripped the material tightly and continued crying.

Surprised by England's actions, Japan proceeded to awkwardly pat England lightly on his back, a weak attempt at calming the nation down. Japan had never been really put in the position of comforting someone and so did not know how to go about it.

Suddenly remembering something that Greece had shown to him, Japan started rubbing small circles onto England's back. Apparently it was a good move because it seemed to sooth the little nation and his sobs were gradually reduced to small hiccups.

What could Japan do to distract England from his nightmare? Japan searched through his thoughts, trying to find something. If only there was something that might be of interest for England... Japan thought seriously. He then had the idea. Japan looked down at England. The little nation had stopped crying but was still looking miserable. Could it work?

The Asian nation stood up and carried England to another room. He carefully put England on the floor and went to fetch something. England stared after him a bit curiously. When Japan returned he was carrying a medium-sized cage. He placed the cage in front of England.

England looked at Japan, a bit confused. Then he turned his attention to the cage.

Inside the cage was a small blue bird, perched on a swing. It let out a couple of cheeps as it ruffled its feathers. England blinked in surprise and moved closer to the cage. The bird chirped again and flapped its wings. England jumped a bit at the movements but was soon back at studying the bird intently.

Japan couldn't help but smile at the Brit's interest in the bird and was glad to have thought about it. He sat on his knees beside England and watched him quietly for a moment.

"You know England-san, this is a male red-flanked bluetail. A beautiful bird, isn't it?" Japan asked, staring kindly at England. England seemed to frown as he tried registering what Japan had said. After a while, England finally nodded slowly.

Japan found himself being surprised. Was England starting to understand what he was saying? That was good news, it meant that England would start to understand more and more. Japan would just have to do all the talking for now. He wasn't too used to that.

"I have to admit though, I usually don't keep birds in cages, I believe they should be free," Japan explained, "But I found this bird a couple weeks ago outside with a broken wing. I took him in and took care of him. Soon it will be well enough to be set free again."

England turned to look at Japan and cocked his head to one side. His eyes showed some comprehension but it still seemed to be quite a struggle for England to fully understand what Japan was saying.

This made Japan thoughtful. Apparently England could understand a good bit of what Japan was saying but not completely. How could England improve? Children usually learned by asking a lot of questions... perhaps England should also start asking questions?

There was only one problem: England probably didn't even know how to ask a question! Well, Japan reasoned, he would just have to show England how.

"Alright England-san, please try to answer my question. What is this?" Japan pointed at the bird. England stared from the bird to Japan and back. He remained silent.

Japan attempted again. "What is this England-san?" The British nation stared at Japan in a confused manner, tentatively pointing at the bird.

He asked quietly, "Buh-ird?"

"Yes." Japan smiled happily. "Now, you try asking a question."

England looked at him quietly, frowning slightly. Then he asked, "Ku-est-shin?"

Japan nodded encouragingly, "If there is something you don't recognize, just ask: what is this?"

Nodding to show he understood England started looking around. He then pointed at the cage, "Wha-at iz dis?"

"That's a cage, it's where you sometimes keep animals." Japan explained. England nodded slowly, shifting his gaze to something else. He suddenly pointed at himself and asked.

"Wha-at iz dis?"

Japan swiftly covered his mouth to muffle his laughter. England was just too comical without knowing it himself. His eyes still glinting with mirth, Japan explained.

"No, no, if you don't recognise someone you say "who" and if you don't recognise something you say "what". So instead, you should say "who is this" if you don't recognise someone." Japan paused before asking, "Who are you?"

He pointed his finger at England as he asked the question. England repeated the movement and echoed "Hoo arr u?" He furrowed his eyebrows thoughtfully before answering uncertainly, "I-ing-land?"

"Yes, and who am I?" Japan pointed at himself this time.

England immediately answered, "J-ja-pan." He seemed to have grasped the difference between the "who" and "what". Japan smiled encouragingly at the little nation. England returned the smile, seemingly proud of himself. All traces of the tears were gone and England's sadness seemed now far away. Of course it would come back again but when that time came hopefully England would have more words to express himself and more importantly, he would be talking with the right person.

Certainly Japan did not approve of America's reaction yesterday. He understood that these memories made America feel awkward and possibly also guilty. It was still no excuse to pass England on in the hopes of avoiding the confrontation that would soon arise between the two English-speaking nations. It left the problem unresolved and sooner or later America would have to face England and talk it over. No other nation had the right to do this, it was something strictly between America and England and it would stay that way. Alas it was not Japan's place to say any of this. Both America and England would have to realise that themselves. How troublesome...

Feeling a tugging at his sleeve, Japan turned to see England standing beside him, looking at him worriedly. Japan had spaced out on England. The Asian nation smiled reassuringly. Right now, Japan should concentrate on teaching England how to ask questions. Then England would be able to ask questions and thus relearn the knowledge he had lost again.

"Alright England-san, since you seem to have grasped the "what" and "who" questions, I suppose I should now teach you the "where" question." Japan looked around him, wondering how he could demonstrate that question.

"Wae-ere?" England repeated curiously, trying to grasp the meaning of this word.

Japan suddenly got the idea. "England-san, where is the bird?"

The little nation stared at him confusedly. He understood that Japan was asking about the bird but what exactly was he asking about? Japan made a motion of looking around with a confused expression.

"Is the bird here?" Japan asked, pointing at the door. England looked at the door and back at Japan, frowning. Japan tried again, "Or is the bird there?" The Asian nation pointed at the window on the other side of the room.

England seriously looked lost. Why was Japan asking about the bird and pointing in every direction except the place where the bird was? What did he want to know...? England's eyes widened with comprehension.

He pointed at the cage and said, "Kay-je?"

Japan nodded happily. "You're doing great England-san! Now, where is the cage?"

"Hee-ere." England answered confidently and pointed to the cage in front of him. He couldn't help but smile widely. He was starting to understand the Japanese nation! Japan himself also looked happy.

But now came the next problem. Japan wondered quietly how he was going to explain the questions "when", "why" and "how" to England. He was going to have to be creative for those ones. What could he do for those questions?

...This could take quite some time.

* * *

_He hated being here. _

_That alone England was clear about. He was not so sure about the rest._

_England found himself in complete darkness once again. Not too unusual nowadays, he had grown used to it. Either he had a void darkness like now or he would often have a series of pictures pass through him so quickly that it left England reeling. Sometimes he fell into a hole where the series of images became one continuous picture and then everything around him would change._

_The British nation would be hurled into a world of confusion, fear or tension. He would hear voices calling out. He would hear screams and shouts. Sometimes he would have an oppressive silence._

_Even the colours were different. Some would flash and blind the nation. Other colours were dark and would engulf him completely, causing him to stumble as he tried to escape it._

_There was also a rush of... something. England wasn't able to describe it but it made these nightmares a lot more frightening. _

_It made them feel real._

_England remembered Japan telling him that those nightmares were harmless and could not really hurt him. That he was safe and sound. But was it true?_

_Sometimes England would wake up screaming. Many nightmares caused him to feel pain some way or another. Many times it was somewhere on his body but a couple of times he felt the pain in his heart or in his head. _

_And he hated it._

_He hated that these nightmares could hurt him. He hated not being able to understand why he was having them. Why they seemed so familiar... Very often England wanted to ask Japan about those nightmares._

_But he still didn't have enough words to express himself. He was able to think in full sentences now but he struggled with speaking it out loud. As if his vocal chords were struggling to find the right sounds. Why was it so difficult for his words in his head to be translated into sounds?_

_England became aware that there was something in the darkness. That was new, he usually was alone in the darkness. This time this was not the case. But instead of comforting him, it made him more fearful. Who was out there and why weren't they saying anything? _

_A dark shadow shifted behind England. The little nation spun around and yelled into the darkness, "W-wu r u-u?"_

_It remained silent for a long while. Then a dark voice drawled, "__**The question is rather who you are**__?" _

_The voice seemed to echo from all the directions. England was not able to pinpoint where the speaker was. _

_-I'm England!- England shifted to thinking his replies, it put less strain on his vocal chords. He discovered that he couldn't do a lot of shouting with his vocal chords. He wondered why._

"_**Do you even know what it means to be England?**__" The voice asked mockingly, a dark shape moving too close to England. England swept his hand at it fearfully, hoping it would go away. The shape disappeared like smoke but it quickly reappeared in front of England._

_-No I don't. Who are you?- England asked again._

_The voice chuckled darkly. The shape rose up until it towered over England. It formed itself into a distinct shape of a person. England found himself staring at bright green eyes._

_But something was wrong with the green eyes of that shape. They had a frenzied glint to them. The shape quickly disappeared into the complete darkness with a snicker. England was about to call out again when suddenly someone wrapped an arm around England's neck._

_England froze as the grip around his neck tightened. The same voice whispered closely at his ear, "__**Well, wouldn't you want to know**__?"_

_Without giving England time to answer, the person flung the little nation into a hole. England cried out. But he kept falling, unable to land. He was aware of people around him, people were marching in lines, yelling at each other. Their voices were full of hatred._

_An enraged voice screamed, "Down with the monarchy!"_

_At these words, pain exploded into England's head. He screamed loudly at the pain, writhing around to just escape it. But he continued falling away from the voices and shouts and was eventually engulfed by the darkness again._

_But the pain did not leave him. The pain burned and twisted itself inside England's head. He felt like his head was being split into two. England screamed again, clawing at his skull, just wanting the pain out of him right now._

"England!"

England was roughly shaken awake by Japan. The Brit opened his eyes quickly, breathing harshly. His throat felt raw and dry. Had he been really been screaming during his sleep? England was still trembling as he stared at Japan with wide eyes. He reached with his arms towards the Asian nation, his eyes imploring.

Japan understood and took England into an embrace. England buried his face in the fabric of Japan's clothes, seeking comfort. He let out a few whimpers but did not cry. The pain was still burning in his head but he tried to ignore it.

He felt Japan try to sooth him with calming words and stroking his hair. England felt himself relax a bit in the arms of the other nation, glad for the comfort that was being given to him.

"Where does it hurt England-san?" Japan asked quietly.

England looked up at Japan and raised his hand, touching his forehead. Japan used his gentle hands to tilt England's head in the faint moonlight, studying England's forehead. He placed a cool hand on England's burning forehead, frowning.

"I don't see any external wound... I wonder what could be causing you the pain. You seem to have a fever." Japan stated quietly, looking at England with worried eyes. He wondered what memory England had just relived.

The little nation looked at Japan sadly, his eyes expressing his confusion. _"Why does it hurt so much?"_ His eyes seemed to be saying, or that's what Japan guessed. England was usually never an easy nation to understand and he was now even more difficult to understand since he was unable to talk properly.

Japan sighed and felt England's forehead again. The fever was going down. So it was like the wounds... Japan was happy that at least these pains were temporary.

But he still felt some sympathy for England. Throughout his history England has been in countless of battles and wars and many other things. And now everything was returning one by one.

It was really as if someone had pressed the "reset" button and England had reverted back to his past self. And now in order to come back to his normal self, England would have to get everything back. Which unfortunately did not only include all his knowledge and memories, but also all his scars.

England shifted slightly in Japan's arms, making himself comfortable. His sleepy eyes threatened to close again, the pain now gone and England seemed very tired. Japan smiled softly and stood up, carrying England with him.

He settled back in his bed and placed England next to him. The Brit had by that time drifted off again and was sleeping soundly. Japan stroked England's locks away from his forehead, getting a better look at England's peaceful face. England was more likeable with the frown gone. Japan hoped that frown wouldn't return so soon.

Japan closed his eyes, easily slipping back into a slumber.

None noticed a little form in the corner of the room, staring at the two nations.

The form smiled.

* * *

There, have some AsaKiku interaction. I honestly find Japan really difficult to write without it feeling like I'm making him too OOC. He doesn't really express himself often enough, hence the difficulty. At least he is recognizeable, right?

Oh yeah, I put a hidden symbolism here. Don't think I put the bird in this story on a random whim, you'll see what I have in mind for him in a later chapter. ;) Also, the dark voice makes an appearance again but this time it takes on a form... though you don't really need to guess what form. Is it actually bad that I had the most fun writing the scene between England and the dark voice? Well, the dark voice has a name but for now it will just be called "dark vocie". Nope, it's not an OC, far from it. But it does have a name.

And one last thing: I have really no clue but it is a yukata that Japan normally wears when he's at home? You know, it's kind of dark blue... gah, I feel bad for being so ignorant about Japanese culture. I can only hope that yukata is right.

Anyway, see you all next time! I'll try to get the next chapter up soon!


	15. Chapter 15

Well, here's the new chapter before the exams start in earnest. My first one will be on Tuesday and it will be 4 FREAKING HOURS LONG! T_T My poor hands, will they survive the ordeal? We'll see after two weeks of writing 7 exams. Anyway, I really tried my best with this chapter but I'm overall frustrated with it. Only about 50% of what I had originally written for this chapter has survived, due to me being highly critical of my writing and always asking myself: "Is this interesting? Or is it too heavy?" Because indeed, this will seem to some of you as a heavy chapter... but it was originally worse. I know some people like deep, but when reading it over I felt that the chapter was going way too deep and that I was losing myself and was completely derailing from my original intention. So, delete, delete and several tweakings. And I'm still not very happy with it... Ah well, tell me what you think of it. Maybe the quality is flunctuating because of my stress for the exams?

Disclaimer: Hetalia and the characters don't belong to me

* * *

Chapter 15

"_Alright, this is possibly the last battle of this war! The Redcoats are weakening and this is their last stand. We show them what real Americans are made of and we're finally free!" America exclaimed loudly to his men, raising his musket into the air. The soldiers started cheering at the top of their voices._

"_So prepare yourselves for the battle. We'll move onto the battlefield in just one hour!" America called over the noise. He grinned widely, his sky blue eyes gleaming with excitment. He was very proud of his men. They were perfect Americans, each filled to the brim with the thrist for freedom. Each and every single one of them was ready to fight to the end._

"_Amérique!"_

_America turned around, looking confused. Who was calling him by his true name? France appeared from the distance, walking over to the young nation, smiling enthusiastically. America grinned back and went over to meet France._

"_Hey France, nice of you to drop in!" America greeted happily. He added, "Your messenger came here a couple days ago, he said your army wouldn't make it in time."_

_France smiled and shrugged his shoulders, "Je suis desolé Amérique, but that is truly the case. My forces are too far away from where you are. I decided to "drop in", as you say, to see you off to your "last battle" as you proclaimed so loudly."_

_The young nation laughed, "You heard my speech? My men don't really need the motivation that much since they're already motivated but every little bit helps, huh?" The elder nation shook his head with a bemused expression._

"_Ah, your strong spirit never fails to amaze me. However, there is another reason for my coming here." France's expression suddenly became serious as he gazed at the American. America blinked, surprised at the sudden change in tone._

"_I presume you're aware that the British Empire himself will also be present in this battle?" France looked at America carefully._

"_England?" America gazed back France in surprise. The older English speaking nation had finally decided to face America on the battlefield? America had been completely unaware of that. Throughout the struggle for his independence America always managed to somehow miss the army that was led by England. Now he was going to finally fight the empire personally? _

_The French nation nodded. America allowed his grin to return full force. "Well, I'll show that bastard that I can be an independent nation too. I'm so going to kick his empire ass!" America's eyes shone with fierce determination and excitement. France rubbed his temples tiredly._

"_Amérique, I want you to take this seriously." France insisted._

"_I totally am. And I'm going to kick his sorry ass out of my lands." America answered, oblivious to France sighing._

"_Oui, but before you go out there and... ah, "kick his ass" as you say, I feel obliged to give you a warning and a piece of advice." France said patiently, making sure he had the complete attention from America._

"_Huh? Warning?" America scoffed in amusement. "Come on France, the old man is not as strong as I am! I'm younger after all! I'm so going to win this fight!"_

_France raised a disapproving eyebrow, "You shouldn't judge a nation's strength by their age Amérique. I should warn you that despite the fact that you're defeating the English forces, Angleterre himself is not beaten that easily. Although I loath to admit it, Angleterre is extremely good at bayoneting."_

_For a moment America looked suddenly unsure. He quickly caught himself and countered, "Well, I've gotten better at it too! Maybe at first I was really bad but now I bet I'm better at it than England himself."_

_The French nation sighed and shook his head, "Still, I wouldn't be so quick as to underestimate him Amérique. It isn't for nothing that he has become the British Empire. Also I have an advice for you mon cher."_

"_Yeah?" America looked behind him watching his army with a thoughtful expression. France coughed lightly to get America's attention back on him. Once he did, France continued._

"_Angleterre can be a really fierce fighter during battle so it wouldn't surprise me if he gets wounded this time around. My advice to you is no matter how bad Angleterre is hurt, do not, I repeat, do not approach him or show an act of kindness towards him."_

_America looked appalled by France's harsh words. "B-but why-"_

"_I know Amérique, it is difficult to be so cold-hearted towards the one who raised you but you need to understand that this is not a game. This is war. Angleterre is your enemy. You want your freedom and Angleterre wants to deny you that natural right. Do you think the British Empire will show you any kindness if you lose this war? In war, kindness ceases to exist mon cher Américain." France explained in a serious tone, never breaking eye contact with America._

_The American chewed his lower lip uncertainly and he questioned warily, "But if I really hurt him during the battle, if he's so badly hurt that he can't stand up, what should I do?"_

_France shook his head bemusedly and said, "There's nothing simpler than that. All you have to do is turn and leave. Even if Angleterre has been wounded, leave. Nations heal quickly, he will be able to take care of himself. Leave and don't look back Amérique."_

_But why? America wanted to voice this question but France seemed able to guess what America was thinking. The French nation could only smile grimly while he reminded._

"_I know that you don't understand the reason right now but you'll come to understand it one day. __This is war Amérique. This was never supposed to be a fair game, no laughter and no happiness. If you have to hurt Angleterre to gain your freedom..._

_...Then pay the price."_

* * *

America woke up suddenly. He was no longer in the battlefield and he was no longer talking to France. America sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

Well, that was an odd thing to dream about. Why did he have to dream about that conversation between him and France just before the last battle? It did remind him how surprised America had been when England had lashed out during the fight. He had in the end underestimated England's fierce attack.

But he had also been defeated so easily. America remembered being shocked seeing his mentor fall to his knees in front of him. England hadn't been even wounded. Despite battling his desire to walk over to England and comfort him, for he knew that England was crying, he remembered France's advice and walked away. He had reasoned that England wasn't hurt and would be okay without his help.

He hadn't of course expected the emotional mess he was leaving England in. At least that's what Canada had told him when America had been complaining about England's cranky attitude towards him. _"You can't really blame him America, he's been an emotional mess ever since you left." _When America had demanded why England was like that just because he left, Canada had simply said that it was not his place to answer and had promptly left.

America sighed. Why did everything have to be so complicated? So, that odd conversation with France... wait, might it be connected to England's scar? America wondered if this was why he had dreamed about that conversation. It must have some kind of importance if America still remembered it. France must know more about it. Maybe he could answer America's questions.

His mind was made up. As America sunk back into his bed to catch a few more hours sleep, he decided he would pay France a visit. He felt like he deserved to know more about this.

* * *

France was of course quite surprised when his doorbell rang and standing outside was the American. It wasn't a very often occurrence so France immediately suspected that America was here because he wanted something. But the French nation smiled warmly and invited America in.

When America was led to the sitting room, he was stunned to find his brother sitting on the couch. Canada wore the same expression as America but it quickly melted into a smile as he greeted quietly, "Hello America."

After being silent for a moment, America asked hesitently, "What are you doing here?"

Canada rolled his eyes, "I'm just visiting France. I should be asking what you are doing here instead."

"Err..." America looked for words, "I'm here... because I have questions that I think France has the answers to."

"Ah, so that is the reason you came here?" France laughed lightly, sitting beside Canada. America went and sat in the armchair, facing the two other nations. France asked, "So, what are your questions about? Angleterre?"

America couldn't help but jump. "How did you know?" He blurted out, looking at France in astonishment. France and Canada shared an amused glance between them.

"Let's just say that I had a suspicion..." France smiled serenely, clasping his hands together. "So, fire away Amérique."

America scratched his head, a bit unsettled by France's encouragement. "Alright," he sighed, "It's basically something that had been on my mind for quite a while. It's about England's scar on his chest. The one from the revolutionary war."

France nodded his head, urging America to continue. The American frowned as he attempted to formulate his question.

"I was wondering... why did he get such a big scar? I didn't think losing a colony would cause such a big wound. When the other colonies left England I don't remember him getting a scar from them." America looked at the two nations in front of him. He was surprised to see that they were staring at him as if he just told them the moon was made out of cheese.

Canada finally spoke up, "But America, didn't England get that scar when he fought in the last battle against you?"

America blinked and quickly shook his head, "We hardly left scratches behind. We did fight but neither of us got really hurt."

"But that doesn't make sense." Canada looked at America disbelievingly, "When England passed by my house after the battle his uniform was ripped and soaked with blood. And you weren't officially considered independent at that time. Are you sure he wasn't hurt during the fight?"

The American shook his head. France was regarding both North American nations with a thoughtful expression. Finally Canada turned to France and asked, "What do you think France?"

France remained silent for a while before asking, "Amérique, is it perhaps possible that one of your soldiers attacked Angleterre shortly after the end of the battle? Maybe he was attacked while going to Canada's house?"

America started feeling uneasy as he considered the thought. He hadn't been officially considered independent so the war hadn't been finished really. So the scar couldn't be a result of when America became officialy a nation, seeing as Canada saw England with the wound right after the battle. Did England meet a hostile American soldier who attacked him because he was a redcoat? Oh crap... was that maybe the reason why England had been so difficult to work with when they started working together in WWI? Had England felt betrayed and wanted nothing to do with America or his people, despite the fact his own government wanted America's help in the war?

It unfortunately made sense...

Canada frowned, "I did consider that theory too... but France, does a wound inflicted by a human really leave a scar like that like it did for England? I thought very few physically inflicted wounds ever left scars behind, most of our scars appear because of war and other catastrophes."

"If the experience is traumatic enough, physical wounds do become scars. Mais tu as raison, usually our scars are a result of what has happened to our people and to our lands." France nodded, seeming pensive.

America scratched his head in confusion. "So is England's scar a physical one or a psychological one?"

"How are we supposed to know that? None of us saw England get the scar. " Canada looked at America carefully. "I always assumed that England had gotten it from the fight with you. Which explained his hostility towards you."

"When I think about it, I do believe that Amérique owes us a story of how exactly did the fight go. You never told anyone the details of that infamous fight." France turned to America, his blue eyes glinting in interest.

America bristled and shot back indignantly, "It's not infamous!" Then he added uneasily, "Nothing big happened really..." But he could see that France and Canada were not letting him off easily so he caved in and told them what had transpired in the last battle of the revolutionary war.

When he had told the whole story, France leaned back into the couch, seemingly deep in thought. Canada continued looking at America, his expression a mixture of surprise and sadness. America shifted uncomfortably under Canada's gaze and after a moment demanded defensively, "What?"

The Canadian shook his head and murmured, "That does explain why England is bitter over all this..."

America couldn't help but bristle. "Hey look Canada, I wanted my independence and there really was no other way-"

"Calm down." Canada held up his hands. "I wasn't asking you to justify your actions, I'm just noting that I now understand why England was so... stormy after that."

"Stormy?" America raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to one side. What the hell was meant with "stormy"?

"Uh, he was difficult to handle the following years after you gained independence." Canada explained. "Very moody and he had unpredictable mood swings. I mean, one moment he was angry and suddenly the next he was crying. I didn't see too much of him during those phases luckily because from what I heard from his brothers, he was really difficult."

America was surprised to say the very least. So, the grumpy Englishman he knew used to be a lot worse? America was glad he didn't have to deal with England at that time. A part of him tried to ignore the feelings of guilt and push it to the back of his mind. He had wanted independence and he had fought fiercely to earn it. Sure, he did regret of having hurt England to gain his freedom but that had been the price to pay...

...Wait.

Those weren't his own words.

He... he remembered. That was what France had told him when the French nation had insisted that America should absolutely not approach England to comfort him. At that time America didn't really understand the reasoning behind it and actually... he still didn't understand it today.

America looked up at France, his face serious, and asked, "One thing I still don't get. When I fought England during the revolution, why did you insist so much that I leave England behind? You never did explain your reasons about that to me."

A brief look of surprise appeared in France's eyes before he chuckled ruefully. "Ah, you remember that conversation? Well...euh... seeing how close Angleterre was to you, I thought that if not only the link between your lands was broken but also the relationship between you two... at that time I sort of hoped Angleterre wouldn't stay an empire much longer after you left."

Both America and Canada blinked at France, shocked by the answer. The French nation smiled a bit nervously and quickly explained, "You two have to understand that at that time, I and Angleterre really hated each other and tried to hurt the other as much as possible. Also Angleterre was a very powerful empire and more than once stood in my way of becoming an even greater empire than him. If not for him I could have been the greatest. But that ex-delinquent was impossible, he wouldn't stop expanding his territories and becoming even more powerful all the time. There was also the previous injury that Angleterre had forced me to give Canada to him."

"I sort of remember that." Canada mumbled sadly at the memory.

"Then you came to me, Amérique, asking for my help to gain independence. I knew Angleterre cherished you the most from his colonies. And I thought... if Amérique was to become an independent country and leave Angleterre... perhaps this would weaken Angleterre's empire and also weaken his emotional state due to his closeness to you. And you leaving him behind on the battlefield would break him even more..."

Seeing America frown disapprovingly at him and Canada looking more shocked, France defended himself, "Don't see me as the villain now, I admit I might have used you for my own goals because I wanted to take Angleterre's place as the most powerful empire in the world. But that was my people's mentality at that time and under their influence I jumped to any occasion that might help me weaken Angleterre. It's what all empires did. It was a constant struggle, seeing which empire you could weaken the most. Angleterre not only weakened me but he also weakened Espagne's empire and Hollande's empire. We were all trying to find Angleterre's weak spot and I thought that it might be you."

France then shook his head and laughed lightly at himself, "I know it sounds now harsh and unfeeling but that's how it used to be at that time. And although it did hurt Angleterre, it didn't weaken his empire. Moreso, the loss of you as his colony only seemed to drive him to be even stricter to his other colonies and continued with perhaps an increased vigour, to expand his territories. So it kind of backfired on me."

The American stared at France wordlessly before shaking head, "I'm sure glad I'm the hero of the world today, because if you guys still controlled the world, the whole place would still be f*cked up."

"If it weren't for us you wouldn't be the country you are today." France said in an annoying sing-song voice. America frowned but did not protest, he didn't know what he could say to contradict that statement.

"So... did I answer all your questions Amérique? Or was there anything else?" France asked, becoming briefly serious again.

Although he racked through his head, America couldn't find any other question that he really wanted answers to. America shook his head and grinned.

"Nah, I have no other questions. I just wanted to find out about England's scar... but it was just out of curiosity!" America added the last part of the sentence hastily, not wanting to give the impression to the two other nations that the scar had worried him. He wondered whether it was not too late already.

Well, before the two other nations cornered him with a question he didn't want to answer (as he was quite sure that France knew that he had passed England on to Japan) America coughed self-consciously and commented, "Well, anyway, thanks for answering my question. I must go now."

As he stood up to go France questioned, "Are you quite sure you don't want to stay and just talk? Why the hurry suddenly?" The French nation smiled knowingly at the American.

America shifted uneasily but quickly answered, "Sorry France, but I have to do some of the paperwork that I've been putting off for a while. So I really gotta go. Thanks anyway and see you guys... well, next time." He nodded and left quickly.

* * *

"Ja-pan, wu-at iz dis?" England came up to Japan, holding out a stick.

Japan smiled and replied, "That's a stick England."

England looked at the object closely before repeating, "Stee- ek." He then dropped it on the ground and walked off again in search of another object.

It was a sunny day and Japan had decided to bring England outside to his garden. It was rather large and had many things England wouldn't remember what their names were. As Japan guessed correctly, England's curiosity was sparked by his surroundings and he went exploring. Every once in a while England would find something of his interest and bring it back to Japan, who sat in the shade of the house, and England would ask him what it was.

That was one positive development. England was beginning to string together the words he had learnt into questions. He had yet to speak a whole sentence without it sounding clipped and strung together. That would have to take some time until England was able to talk more fluently.

"Wu-at iz dis?" England had come back to Japan, holding out this time a leaf.

Japan answered, "That's a leaf."

"Lee-ef." England stared at the leaf before letting it drop softly to the ground. This time England stayed where he stood. He seemed to be thinking about something which caused him to frown slightly.

The Asian nation asked curiously, "What is it England?"

England looked Japan directly in the eyes, as if considering if he should answer the other nation. He finally voiced his question, "Wu-ere iz Ame-ree-ka?"

Japan leaned back, looking surprised. Why was England asking that question?

"He isn't here." Japan answered evasively. England looked saddened by the answer and walked slowly away. Japan was a bit astonished by England's reaction. Did England actually want to see America? That would mean that despite what had happened on America's birthday England still wanted to talk to him... so he couldn't hate America entirely!

But America was completely convinced of the opposite: that England absolutely hated him, didn't trust him and wanted nothing to do with the American. Japan sighed. Though England hadn't exactly voiced his wish to see America, his reaction to Japan's answer was enough to make Japan wonder how right America's conclusions were. At the very least it didn't seem that England was rejoicing the fact that America wasn't here.

A bell from inside Japan's house rung. Japan turned at the sound, wondering who was at his front door. He then smiled, remembering that Greece was coming over today to visit him. Japan looked back to see where England was and saw him standing by the pond staring at the goldfishes. Japan stood up and went inside the house, going to open the door for Greece.

England stared up shortly at the retreating figure of Japan. He then returned his attention to the fishes. England was feeling sad and confused. He didn't understand why he didn't see America anymore. He wished to see him again. England had not understood what had exactly happened on the day he had gotten the scar on his chest... he wanted to ask about it but could not find the words necessary to voice his confusion.

The only way he would be able to receive his answers is by asking America... and since he wasn't here England couldn't even begin to try and ask! Why had it been so abruptly decided that England was no longer with America? England found no answer to this question.

As England stared unhappily at his reflection, he began feeling a... presence? England looked around him but could not see Japan, or anyone else for that matter. However when he turned his gaze back to the pond he felt it again.

There was definitely someone here. But who?

Something flashed by his side. England jumped and spun around to see who it was. But he could not spot anyone. At all.

England stared again at the water, feeling a bit nervous now. Who was there? Something in the water caught his eye. England stared at it and saw what looked like the reflection of a form... who was standing right behind him.

The little nation turned around again and was frustrated to see that there was nothing there. England hissed defensively, "Wu...who arr u?

His only answer was a soft giggling in the wind.

* * *

So... how bad was it? *gulps nervously* I do wonder how many of you suspect who that form is who is currently stalking England...

I noticed in a lot of fanfics that when they refer back to the aftermath of the revolution as a memory or even make the revolution the main storyline, some have America hugging and comforting England while others... *cough*kink meme anyone?*cough* ...goes in a pretty dark direction. I find it interesting to read the different interpretations of what happened after the fight, but I truthfully never agreed with them on one point or another. From what I observe in his interactions with America in the canon WWI/WWII timeline, I can read some bitterness and hurt in England's words. So for England to behave like that to America, he would have had to have the feeling of having been betrayed. So either comforting or hurting him physically wouldn't have brought England to this stage where he doesn't hate America but clearly hasn't let go of the revolution. Just my view on things, though I think I will go in greater detail later in the story.

Also, I would like to address some questions and queries I got from the past reviews.

- As previously stated, I intend to make this a USXUK story. So clearly I will have both characters interacting with each other again but now I'm entering a phase where things are going to build up and blow up in a bad way before I bring these two together and begin the conversion of friends into something more. It's really not easy to carry this out, which is why I also warned you all that this story is going to be ridiculously long.

- England will grow up again, but since this is a Chibirisu fanfic, he will remain little for quite a while. Eventually of course he will grow up but for now, there are two things that will hinder his growth. It's up tp you dear readers to figure out what those are. And as of now, his body hasn't entirely healed yet. England is more or less the size of how we see Chibirisu in the anime, just for your infromation. And a little expanation... Japan is not essentially teaching him to recognize objects or even talk, he's giving England a rough idea of how to pronounce certain words. England's mentality is beyond the one of a child his size.

- And never fear, this story will not die anytime soon! My updates aren't as quick as I would like them to be but I try my best. I'm a bit surprised by the number of reviewers who wanted me to confirm that I will continue the story but in a way I kind of understand your reasonings... lately some of my favorite fanfics are being put on hold or simply discontinued which really disheartens me. I might even stop reading fanfics altogether, or just read oneshots and PWP. I love multi-chapter fics but I really don't like it when they're so far along and then they abruptly stop.

Did I answer all the questions? Feel free to ask more, I will gladly try to answer them.

Ah yes, the translations (all in French) :

Je suis desolé Amérique = I am sorry America

mon cher = my dear (it just seems like totally France to say this O_o)

Américain = American (I really hope this is spelled correctly, French grammer was never my forte)

Mais tu as raison = But you are right

euh = umm (I'm just not sure if some of you would be confused by the "euh", that's the sound they make where the English speakers go "umm" when confused, uncertain or nervous. It didn't feel right for France to say "umm"...

And that's it. Hope you enjoyed the chapter despite my furstrations with it. ^^


	16. Chapter 16

So, somehow I survived the exams (finished the last one on Friday) and I have a new chapter for all off you as a celebration! For some reason that didn't stop me from falling down the stairs and hurting my hands so I'm not going to exaggerate when I say the chapter was painful to write. ^^ Well, on top of the physical pain, I also have the writer's block unfortunately. But I think if I struggle against it long enough, it will break. So I apologize for the quality and shortness of this chapter, I'm not too happy with it. Ah well, hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Hetalia and the characters don't belong to me.

* * *

Chapter 16

After America's abrupt departure, France and Canada talked together for a few more hours. Both French-speaking countries got along very well and when France was not in his pervert-mode, Canada was actually able to have very interesting conversations with his former mentor.

At one point, their conversation drifted over to England and Canada informed France of his research of what could have caused England to commit the unthinkable. After Canada had finished telling France of all the possible causes, the elder nation cocked his head to one side and asked curiously.

"Have you considered Angleterre's feelings for Amérique as another factor aussi?"

Canada nodded, "Yeah, I also think that England's feelings for America might have contributed to his depression."

France frowned and shook his head. "Non Canada, it's not because of Angleterre's amour for Amérique that he tried killing himself. It's because of the hopelessness of his situation."

"You mean that England attempted to kill himself because he saw no hope in his feelings being ever returned by America?" Canada asked carefully, making sure he had understood France's meaning. He had to admit though, it did make sense.

"If Angleterre had known some hope that Amérique might feel same for him, he probably wouldn't have decided to end his life so hastily." France said gravely, sighing slightly as he stared blankly into space.

Canada broke the silence by saying sadly, "But America is too oblivious to all this, he has no clue that England felt something for him. America probably doesn't share any of these feelings..."

At that France looked at the younger nation and chuckled, "Vraiment Canada? Haven't you seen the signs? How Amérique has reacted to Angleterre's attempted suicide?"

The Canadian frowned, "Those reactions can also come from someone who only views England as a close friend and brother..."

"Then answer me this mon mignon: Why did Amérique seem suddenly flustered by his interest in Angleterre's scar in front of us and then made unnecessary excuses to escape from us? Why do you think Amérique would attempt to mask his interest in Angleterre from us?" France smiled widely, cocking his head to one side as he watched Canada's reaction.

Canada was quite speechless. He too had noticed those oddities but now that France pointed them out in this new light... yes, France did have a point. Not trusting himself, Canada hesitantly began, "So you mean America is...?"

"It's safe to assume that Amérique doesn't understand his own feelings, hence the uncertainty and need to camouflage them. However Amérique is at a stage where his feelings will continue to develop and in a near future he will begin to see Angleterre in a new light. Although it might take some prodding around for Amérique to realize this." France chuckled again and shook his head. America was too oblivious to his own feelings for his own good.

"You want us to play matchmaker or something?" Canada asked incredulously, though he seemed amused by the idea.

"If needed, oui. It's our duty to finally bring those two love doves together! It's long overdue!" France exclaimed, throwing his arms up. Both nations laughed lightly.

But Canada looked suddenly unsure. "But France... England has lost all his memories. Will England remember his love for America? There's a risk that England will recover and completely forget his feelings for America and then America will be the one pining for England."

France considered the new potential problem before answering, "If Angleterre's amour is true, it will return to him eventually. I do believe that while all his memories have been wiped out and he has yet to regain all the scars he got from past wars, I think nothing has changed inside him. Inside Angleterre, the same heart still beats. It will recognize Amérique, just like it did on his birthday party."

"You mean when England remembered the revolution...?" Canada then frowned and looked France, "Actually did England really remember the revolution? When he rejected America... I asked him why and England seemed to understand my question... England kind of showed me that it was because of his heart that he rejected America. That it hurt."

"Maybe Angleterre has only remembered the feelings that he felt from that revolution... it's rather unfortunate that Amérique has passed him on to Japon. It just complicates things further. But Angleterre might pick up a calmer personality with Japon so I think it's not too bad for our cher Brit to stay with him. But I am now sure that Angleterre still has the same heart, meaning there is a chance that he will remember his love for Amérique."

"And what if America doesn't figure out how he feels about England? That he continues being confused by his feelings and tries to laugh them off as something unimportant?" Canada asked worriedly.

"Well, for now we should just be patient and see how things develop. If Angleterre shows any signs of regaining his love for Amérique we'll have to maybe work on Amérique so that your frère finally realizes his own feelings for Angleterre." France said dead-pan, looking at Canada with serious eyes.

Canada, blinking with surprise, commented, "You're really taking this very seriously, aren't you?"

France broke out into a smile and replied, "When it comes to matters of l'amour, I am always absolutely serious."

* * *

America had been barely 10 minutes at home when he heard someone ring the doorbell. The American turned to stare at the front door in surprise, had he been expecting someone? Who could it possibly be?

He went over an opened the door to see who it was. Before him stood a red-haired teenager that America did not instantly recognize. The teen seemed a bit awkward and unsure. America stared at him for a few more seconds before he noticed that the teen had unusually thick eyebrows.

Oh, so this was… he had to be somehow connected to the UK, no one else had these kind of eyebrows other than England.

"Umm, sorry but I'm not really sure who you are…" America began lamely, uncertain of what he should say.

"Err, I'm Northern Ireland… I-I'm part of the UK." The teen hastily explained, shifting awkwardly from one foot to another.

"Oh? So… what brings you here?" America asked curiously, a bit surprised. He was almost sure he had never met Northern Ireland before… or at least had never talked to him. The younger Irish nation never strayed far from his home and so the American wondered what had brought him here of all places.

"I… I came here to talk… about England." Northern Ireland answered, staring at America with a mixture of apprehension and uncertainty.

"Umm, alright, come on in." America invited, feeling a bit uneasy. This nation was probably going to confront America on why he had passed England on to Japan, right?

Northern Ireland stepped inside the house, looking around him a bit nervously. America closed the door after him. Northern Ireland turned to look at America and mumbled awkwardly, "The thing is, I never do this, I don't think I've ever travelled this far to another nation's house by myself before…"

_Well, no shit Sherlock._ America thought privately to himself.

"…but when I heard from my brothers that you had passed England on to Japan… well, I had to come over and ask… why?" Northern Ireland finished uncertainly.

America was silent for a moment before replying, "Why? Because I had to. England remembered the revolution and then rejected me when I came close to him. He remembers his grudge and hatred towards me and it would have been no use for him to stay here. He wouldn't have continued to heal at all. So I passed him on to Japan, whom he's friends with. I see nothing wrong in that."

"But… is it really fair on England? Did you leave him any say in that matter?" Northern Ireland asked insistently.

"He can't even pronounce words correctly, so how could he have a say in this?" America countered, hoping that Northern Ireland wouldn't pry further.

The younger nation frowned and crossed his arms unhappily, "I heard from Scotland who heard it from Canada that England was asleep when you passed him to Japan."

America bristled, "Look Northern Ireland, I did it for England's sake. The revolution is a painful memory for him and to some point, it is an uncomfortable memory to me. I fought for my freedom, I gained it. But I didn't want to hurt England, but he still ended up hurt. Now England remembers that hurt and doesn't trust me anymore. How is England supposed to get better with me when he hates me?"

"How do you even know that he remembers?" Northern Ireland mumbled, putting his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "How can you be sure that England was not just confused by all the pain and needed some space to think?"

"Then why did he reject me but not Canada?" America demanded, feeling irritated that no one seemed to understand his side of the story. "Look, the whole revolution happened before you even existed so I don't really understand why this is any of your concern-"

Northern Ireland cut him off, "I know I was not there when the revolution happened and I may not even understand the reasons behind the revolution-"

"I did it because I wanted independence from him-"

"WELL I DON'T UNDERSTAND THAT!" Northern Ireland burst out angrily.

America was taken aback. "Don't you want to be independent? Don't you want to be free, be your own nation with your own people?"

"No, I have no intention whatsoever to ever become independent." Northern Ireland mumbled, a bit embarrassed by his outburst. He sighed, "All that I can see is that you passed England on to someone else without any warning to England and I don't think that's fair. England is not a simple object to be passed on whenever one wishes…

"I know that." America answered tiredly.

"Do you?" Northern Ireland countered, raising a thick eyebrow. They stared at each other in silence, both at loss what else to say. What finally broke the silence was Northern Ireland's phone that started vibrating.

Northern Ireland fished his phone out from his pocket and looked at the message he had received. He sighed, "Great, Wales is asking where I am… I guess I should go…"

America looked at Northern Ireland and said, "Come on Northern Ireland, we really shouldn't be arguing, right? We're on the same side, we both care for England."

The teen briefly looked up at the American. He sighed again, "I just hope you know what you're doing…" He turned to the front door and as he was opening it, America was struck by a question.

"Hey Northern Ireland?"

"Hmm?" Northern Ireland turned to look back curiously, his hand on the handle of the door.

"Is it true what you said earlier?" America asked hesitantly, unsure if it was a touchy subject for the young nation. "I mean, about not wanting to be independent? What will you do if the UK splits apart? Scotland has been complaining for ages about how he wants to be an independent nation again…"

The Irish nation looked thoughtful for a moment before uneasily replying, "Well, hopefully the UK won't break apart any time soon… but if it does… I would try and join Ireland to reunite both parts of the island."

America blinked astonished, "But I thought you and Ireland couldn't stand each other's guts."

"In actual fact, "my" people are starting to consider the option more and more, and his people seem supportive of the idea… it is however a different story with my brother." Northern Ireland shook his head and attempted a small smile. "Ah well, you know… the usual family issues. Thanks anyway for… talking to me." Northern Ireland seemed to become red in the face, having become embarrassed again although America could not understand why.

Before America could respond to what Northern Ireland had said, the teen ducked his head and was out of the door swiftly. America walked up to the door and looked out, but he couldn't see Northern Ireland anywhere.

_What a strange kid. _America thought to himself, scratching his head as he proceeded the close the door. Then again, America had heard snippets of the young nation's recent history: IRA, bombings, religious tensions between the Catholics and Protestants… Northern Ireland really didn't have an easy life. According to Scotland Northern Ireland was just a timid nation who had some problems with socially interacting with other nations.

So it was a bit funny that Northern Ireland had nation-hopped all the way to here and had practically demanded answers from a superpower.

America thought back over the things the younger nation had said. He felt a bit uneasy, had it been really unfair to pass England on when he had been asleep? He might have been more than a bit surprised when he woke up to find that he was in Japan's house. America wondered how England was feeling right now…

The American looked over to his bomber jacket strewn on his couch, his mobile phone in one of the pockets. He could… call Japan and just ask about England.

There would be no harm in doing that, right?

* * *

"Hello Greece-san." Japan smiled widely as he opened the door for the Mediterranean nation.

Greece returned the smile and replied, "Hey Japan, it's nice to see you again." He walked past the Asian nation into the house.

Japan followed and said, "Yes, it's nice to see you as well. It's been a while since we both have had enough time to just sit down and converse."

"Hopefully you haven't been too bored being by yourself..." Greece turned to look at Japan, his gaze a little apologetic.

Japan swiftly shook his head, "Oh no, no, there is no need to worry. I haven't been alone recently, I'm taking care of England."

"Oh?" Greece raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Since when?"

"Since America-san's birthday party."

"How's he doing?"

"He is fine for now, he's learning how to speak again." Japan replied as both nations reached the end of the house. They walked out into the garden.

"Ah yes, I see him over there." Greece smiled as he spotted the little nation near by the pond. They made their way over to England who looked up when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching.

"Hey England, I'm Greece." Greece introduced himself, going down on one knee so that England wouldn't have to crane his neck up so much.

England stared at the unfamiliar nation, his gaze curious. After a moment he remembered what Japan had taught him the other day. He slowly replied, "Hell-oh Gree-se."

"How are you doing?" Greece asked the smaller nation in a friendly tone.

England looked at Greece in confusion, not knowing how to respond to the question. Japan, who was beside Greece, said with a small smile, "Greece-san, I don't think England-san has learned enough to be able to comprehend your question or to answer it."

The Brit turned to Japan and frowned, quickly shaking his head. Japan looked down at the smaller nation in surprise.

"You understood the question England-san?"

England nodded his head affirmatively and began to say, "Yee-ss..." but then faltered. He pointed to his throat, looking at the two other nations meaningfully.

"I think he wants to tell us that he doesn't have the words to express himself." Greece guessed. England rolled his eyes, he had actually meant that the words he wanted to say couldn't leave his throat because he had no idea how to pronounce these words yet. But Greece's guess was pretty accurate after all.

"Should we return inside for some tea?" Japan proposed to Greece. The Greek nodded and stood up again.

"Are you coming England-san?" Japan turned to England. England seemed to consider it at first before shaking his head.

"Sss-st-ay ow-owt." England cursed his inability to pronounce the words easily. Why were they so clear in his head but a complete mess when he tried saying them?

Japan cocked his head to one side, studying England's expression before saying, "Alright England-san, if something happens just call out for me. Alright?" England swiftly nodded before walking further away and pretended to busy himself with discovering the garden.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched Japan and Greece walk back to the house, chatting animatedly. He saw that they were quite close friends, the way they acted around each other. Japan acted even less formal than usual.

But that was not a pressing matter. What was more pressing was that this... presence was still around. It annoyed England because he knew something was there but he just couldn't see it.

England slowly returned by the pond, casting wary glances from side to side. Where was it? _Whoever you are, please come out. I don't like it when I can't see you._ England thought bitterly, looking around him.

He was surprised when a quiet voice answered cheerfully, _Okay! _

The form appeared in front of England.

* * *

Alright people, last chance to guess who is the form that's been stalking England for over 2 chapters! I got some really interesting guesses and I feel almost guilty because some of you are looking too far. The form is really simple, but since it will appear in the next chapter, I will not say anything.

Anyway, hope you didn't mind having Northern Ireland pop up in this chapter out of nowhere. I was getting frustrated with myself because I wanted to write a confrontation between America and another nation on the subject and I couldn't find who it should be at first. It had to be someone who cares about England and openly shows it and there had to be some realistic connection between America and that particular nation. Then Northern Ireland suddenly strolled into my mind and asked me if I was going to continue neglecting him and his brothers for long. Cue me smiling evily and grabbing North and writing him into the chapter. North was less than happy with me but you know, he really shouldn't have walked in on my thoughts like that. _ Anyway, it gave me a chance to shed some light on his personality more. There is a reason why his and Ireland's relationship is so bad emotionally speaking when their people get along so well. I will go into detail as England is partly at fault for this dysfuntional relationship between both Irish nations but that will only be explained many chapters later. And I did talk with quite a few people from Northern Ireland and these opinions hold true. The people from Northern Ireland really don't want to be an independent nation. It's either UK or Ireland for them. (leaning more and more on Ireland with the increase in Catholics)

Okay, enough jabbering from me. ^^; These A/N notes always get so ridiculously long...

So see you all next time with a new chapter!

Translations: (I was a bit lazy this time, not feeling very Frenchy)

aussi = as well, too

amour = love

Vraiment = Really

mon mignon = my cutie (how the hell does France get away with these kind of things?)

Japon = Japan (nope, not a typo)

cher = dear

frère = brother


	17. Chapter 17

*drum roll* And the stalker is finally revealed! 8D I'm asking you guys not to scoff or to be annoyed with me with who it is, I did say it wasn't an OC. I also thought someone might catch this quote: "soft giggling in the wind". That was two chapters ago and I was really sure someone would figure it out. Because realistically speaking, would the dark voice "giggle softly"? It might cackle, it might snicker and it might even guffaw. But giggle? If the dark voice had giggled, it would have been either giggled hysterically or maniacally. But never softly. Anyway, here are the results:

Another (darker) side of England: 7

Flying Mint Bunny: 6

Fairy or some other magical being: 4

I possibly missed some of you guys, if I did I apologise. All of your guesses were good but I guess I didn't drop enough hints as to who it was. The people who said Flying Mint Bunny really made me laugh hard, I don't actually know if I want to include that bunny into the story. I find it quite silly and ever since I had that nightmare with it and a world of green goo and green jelly, I'm even less likely to consider writing Flying Mint Bunny into the story. I might consider the fairies though, but not an integral part. For those who believed it was the dark side of England: the form stalking England acted a bit differently, instead of speaking **like the dark voice**, it spoke _more like this. _I do actually want you guys to keep in mind that no matter where and no matter when, the dark voice will always talk in **bold**. (you know, just to underline the darkness of the voice. ^^;) Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter, despite its shortness.

Disclaimer: Hetalia and the characters don't belong to me.

(please don't be too annoyed with my choice of who was stalking England. The stalker did have a special purpose, hence why I chose that character)

* * *

Chapter 17

England blinked in astonishment and surprise. A little Japanese girl had suddenly appeared in front of him. Out of nowhere! He studied her closely, noting that she did not appear completely solid. How come?

_Why didn't you say anything before? _England finally thought, figuring that this was the only way to communicate with the girl.

_Because I couldn't understand what you were saying before. You weren't talking Japanese and I didn't understand what language you were speaking. _The girl replied in his mind, smiling brightly. Then as an afterthought she added, _But I can understand you like that. Isn't that funny?_

_Yes it's... strange. _England replied thoughtfully, wondering why he could even talk to the girl through his mind. He looked up to see the little girl smiling widely at him. England was a little unnerved, why was this girl looking at him like that? Especially at his eyebrows.

_What? _England demanded defensively, looking at the girl sharply.

The girl shifted her gaze elsewhere and giggled. _Nothing._

Both were silent for a moment, neither making a move.

Curiosity got the better of England and he finally asked, _What are you exactly? I don't think you're a nation... or the other creature...human…_

The girl looked unsure before replying, _You would call me a ghost... or a spirit, I'm not sure._

_A spirit? _England looked confused. _What's a spirit?_

The girl walked towards England and said, _Hold your hand in front of you. _England did as he was told. The girl held her hand also in front of her and touched her palm with his.

The icy cold that England felt from the touch was unexpected. England shivered at the contact. He cried out in shock when he saw the girl quite literally pass her hand through his palm. He stumbled back and fell on the ground with an "oof".

He stared at the girl in disbelief and looked back to his hand. The girl burst out laughing at England's expression.

_You see now? That's a spirit. I can go through walls and stuff. _She explained, still giggling as England shakily stood up again.

_You're so cold... _England murmured, staring at the girl a bit warily.

_It's normal, I'm dead. _The girl replied, walking towards England again. He took a step back, England definitely didn't want her cold hands near him again. Or going through him for that matter.

_What's your name? _The girl asked curiously, cocking her head to one side.

_England. _The small nation replied, before adding, _And yours?_

The girl sighed sadly, _I don't know anymore. _But she suddenly perked up, asking, _So you're the same England I met a long time ago?_

England was confused. _I met you before? But when? _He asked disbelievingly.

_Oh, a very long time ago. _The girl replied, shrugging her shoulders. Then she said, _Actually you look a bit different since last time. And you were grumpier._

_How different did I look? I don't remember anything about meeting you! _This perplexed England more than he could openly admit. How come this spirit knew him when he had never heard about her, let alone even know what she was? Suddenly England felt something was amiss, something here did not make sense to him.

_I'll tell you if you catch me! _The spirit declared, her eyes twinkling brightly. England gave her the "are you serious?" look.

_How am I supposed to do that? _He asked, wanting the girl to tell him more about what she knew.

_Well... run after me. _The girl proposed, as if stating the most obvious thing of history. Apparently it wasn't obvious enough for England.

_Run? _England looked down to his legs. He looked up to the girl again and sadly said, _I don't know how._

The spirit gave the nation an incredulous look. She looked down to his legs and up again, shaking her head. _You can't be serious England. You ran after me last time! And you will run after me this time too._

She grinned maliciously as she approached England with her hands again. Seeing her intent, England backed away with a yelp.

_Don't do that! _He scolded and crossed his arms.

_Then run after me! _The girl laughed and ran off. She stopped some way off when she noticed that England wasn't following her.

_Come on! Just try! _She called out, encouraging England. The small nation looked unsure, how was he supposed to run after her? An attempt wouldn't hurt. England clenched his fists in determination as he started going after her.

* * *

Japan and Greece were just in the middle of a conversation where Greece was explaining the basics of purr therapy (indeed a very interesting kind of therapy) when Japan's phone started ringing.

The Japanese picked up his phone, looking at the phone number to see who was calling him. He was quite surprised to see that it was America who was calling him. He looked at Greece and smiled apologetically, "Do you mind if I answer this call?"

Greece blinked and shook his head, "No, no, I don't mind at all."

Smiling, Japan stood up and left the room before he pressed the button and answered, "Hello America-san."

"O-oh, hey Japan." America replied, sounding sheepish. After a moment of hesitation he asked uncertainly, "I was just wondering… is England doing okay?"

Japan was quite surprised, he hadn't expected America to jump to the point so quickly. Though of course Japan did suspect that that was America's reason for calling after all.

"England-san is doing quite well. Though he did express some fear when he woke up to find himself in unfamiliar surroundings and his nightmares are not being easy on him, I would say under the circumstances that England-san is doing well." Japan answered calmly.

"Oh… well, that's great!" America said cheerfully, "I just wanted to check, you know… it's not like I'm saying you can't take good care of England or something but… I was thinking a bit about my actions and I'm starting to think I wasn't that fair on England when I gave him to you while he was still asleep… but, as I can hear, everything's great so I don't need to worry-"

"America-san…" Japan cut the American off, knowing he had to interrupt the other nation if he was to get a word in sideways, "England-san asked for you earlier today."

"H-he did?" America sounded shocked and surprised, almost unbelieving.

"Yes, and he seemed quite sad when I told him you weren't around." Japan paused, allowing this piece of information to sink in. Then he added, "I think… I would reconsider your conclusions about England-san not liking you anymore."

"O-okay but it doesn't mean that England trusts me exactly…" America countered uncertainly, sounding not entirely convinced of his words.

"Yes America-san, but I just wanted to make you aware that you might have drawn your conclusions too quickly." Japan responded calmly.

"Y-yeah but… he's happy and all at your place so we don't have to worry! You wouldn't mind keeping England longer, right? Then you can always pass him to someone else. I'll see England again anyway at the next World Meeting which is after the summer holidays. By then England won't be afraid of me anymore." America chattered loudly, sounding too cheerful and talkactive for it to be genuine.

"America-san, I really don't think you-" Japan began but was cut off by the boisterous American.

"Oh, will you look at the time? Sorry Japan, gotta go, I have to do some paperwork. Thanks for taking care of England!" America thanked gratefully and then promptly hung up.

Japan frowned slightly and shook his head. _Your flee tactic will not last you forever America-san. Sooner or later you will have to face this obstacle with England-san and finally talk this revolution out with him. It will not go away with time. _He thought silently to himself as he put the phone back onto the table.

Greece, who had been looking out of the window, turned his head to look at Japan as the Asian nation returned and asked curiously, "So what did America want to know?"

"It seems like America has realized that he assumed things too quickly and wanted to check if England was doing alright. But he doesn't seem to want to say out loud that he made a mistake in his conclusions." Japan shook his head.

"Well, who likes admitting that they made a mistake?"

"Not many people like doing that I suppose." Japan agreed, sighing slightly.

"Anyway, how long did it take America to realize the mistake he made in participating in the Vietnam war in the belief he was making a valiant stand against communism?" Greece added, shrugging his shoulders.

"But I do hope it won't take this long with England. I think it's crucial for England's healing process that he and America talk out their misunderstandings. I don't know how America can't see that this is evident. He just keeps hoping that with time England will forget but I doubt that he will." Japan sighed again sadly.

"Don't worry Japan, I'm convinced that it will eventually work out for those two. All that is needed is time and patience." Greece said earnestly.

The Japanese nation chuckled softly and shook his head in amusement, "I really hope that one day these two will be together. I would even encourage them myself if it is needed."

"I'm certain you're not the only one with the same sentiment." Greece smiled and then added, "So, would you like to hear more about the purr therapy?"

"Oh certainly, I would love to learn more about this strange therapy." Japan nodded affirmatively, sitting down to continue listening avidly to the Greek.

* * *

England's first attempts at running were rather clumsy. Extremely clumsy would better describe it. He often stumbled upon his own feet and fell to the ground. Luckily he couldn't hurt himself as the ground was covered in grass and he always stood up to try again.

For some inexplicable reason, sometimes his leg muscles would jar and freeze or suddenly jolt. He was certainly not in complete harmony with his legs but he was continuously encouraged by the spirit to continue trying. Little by little he became more balanced and less shaky on his feet and slowly he tried pushing his legs to make himself run quicker.

Soon he was able to swerve around to follow the girl when she would abruptly change directions , though now and again he still stumbled on his relatively unsteady feet. In his recent memories England had always thought his legs were too weak to support him. When Canada had finally helped him to gain enough strength in his legs to stand up and walk around England assumed he wouldn't be able to improve further. The spirit proved him wrong.

However when England was forced to clamber up a small boulder in the attempts of catching the quick spirit, the impact of jumping off it caused England to stumble and fall hard on his chest. England's breath was knocked out of him.

He lay there a moment, panting and attempting to recover from the shock of the impact. Okay, he was definitely not jumping off things any time soon. His legs obviously weren't strong enough for that yet.

_Are you okay? _The girl came up to England, worry in her eyes. England still lay there, not trying to move at all. The spirit sunk to her knees to shake England's shoulder lightly.

England, in a moment of quick thinking, saw his chance. He reached out and caught her wrist, shivering inwardly at the coldness.

_I caught you. _England declared, rolling onto his back and letting out a laugh of triumph. The girl started laughing too.

_So you did. _She giggled happily. Releasing her freezing hand, England sat up and looked at the spirit.

_Will you tell me now how I used to look like? _He asked the spirit.

_I'll show you. Just follow me. _The girl answered and stood up. England followed her back to Japan's house. The spirit led him to a room England hadn't been in before. Unperturbed the girl opened a drawer of a cupboard and started rummaging through pages.

_Aha, found it! _She exclaimed after a few minutes of searching, pulling out a piece of paper and giving it to England. It was an old photo of Japan and another person beside him. Upon closer inspection England realized that this person looked like an older version of him.

_That's... me? _England asked, looking at the photo closely. Yes, he could see that this man had the same thick eyebrows like him and the same unruly hair. But... why was this man older than him when he was supposed to be that person?

Something odd was going on. England began to doubt himself. _Until now there have been always strange things but I thought it was maybe because I wasn't old enough to understand. But now... _

England turned around but was surprised to find that the spirit had disappeared without a word. He was all alone in the room. He went back to staring at the photograph. Both men were smiling at the camera and behind them there stood a great mountain with an odd structure on top of it.

"_Hey Japan, what exactly is that strange-looking thing?"_

_Japan turned to look at what England was pointing and said, "Oh, that's just a Tengu chair."_

_He went on to explain, "In the old days, monsters called Tengus appeared a lot and caused mischief for people."_

_Horrified, England exclaimed, "I-Is that a bad guy?"_

_Japan crossed his arms and said, "They're also considered gods of the mountains, so we can't really label them as "bad guys"..._

_Suddenly England saw a creature next to the structure and murmured, "Oh, so that's a Tengu, huh?"_

_The creature at the top spotted them and started waving. England was surprised by that and said, "Hey, he's waving at us! Hello there!" England started waving while Japan looked at him oddly._

England snapped his eyes open. What had just happened? England had not fallen asleep and yet it felt like he had just fallen into a... memory? The little nation did not remember ever living this memory but he still felt like he had seen this memory before. Why should he have gotten this memory otherwise?

So England had to conclude that he hadn't always been a small nation. At some point he had been older and had certainly lived through a lot of things. Which would mean that all the nightmares England suffered from were actually lost memories? That the scars that marred his body used to be there before disappearing for some unknown reason?

"England?" England heard Japan call him. England quickly returned the photo to its place and closed the drawer. He walked out of the room before replying.

"I am hee-re."

Japan turned to look at England and said in a surprised tone, "Oh, I thought you were still out in the garden. I wanted to ask you if you wanted something to drink."

England shook his head and said, "No ff-anks."

The Asian nation smiled, happy to see England was remembering what Japan had taught him to say. Japan just nodded and walked away, probably returning to where Greece was to continue talking with him.

England went through his thoughts carefully. In a way, he was England but England was not him. He had but a fraction of all the memories England had ever had. So he would have to remember everything he had somehow lost.

But now there were questions that perturbed England a lot: Why did he lose all his memories? Why was he smaller when he used to be older?

What had happened?

* * *

*coughs awkwardly* Umm, I really apologize for the awkward Giripan in this chapter. I really don't know how to write the pairing seeing as it's not one I'm especially fond of and can't really relate to it easily. No matter how canon this relationship is in Hetalia, I can't shake the feeling off that it lacks any kind of realistic flaw. Alright, we have Japan's denial... but otherwise? Anyway, I decided to approach the relationship from a platonic point of view. I find it slightly easier to write them as close friends than anything else.

And now the plot thickens because now England has realized for the first time that he wasn't always a little nation and that the nightmares he gets are in fact lost memories. Hmm, how would you feel if you had such a revelation? O_o I would definately be at loss and I would try to deny it but England has firm proof that he used to look different with the photo and on top of that he gets those memories. Some of you would have recognized the memory I described, it comes from the episode "Episode 30: The Ghost Culture of England and Japan". I seriously think the unnamed girl from that episode gets pushed aside too often, she did annoy the heck out of England with all her "soft gigglings".

Oh, and the purr therapy? Sorry for that complete randomness but I was really looking for a conversation that is closely related to Greece and that might interest Japan. So I just came up with purr therapy, the subject is about cats but it still sounds sophisticated. I was actually shocked to discover that this therapy does exist. Well, I have my own with my cat. Scratch her chin till she's purring like a motor then I bury my face into her fur. Really relaxing, though my cat gets quite annoyed with me when I do it too often. ^_^; But its really comforting and there were times I almost fell asleep. Go try it out with your cat if you have one! (and if you don't have trust issues with it. A good relationship between you and cat is essential.)

And now regarding America. We all know he's making a big mistake and we certainly all wish to bop him on the head so that he get's to his senses. But with America, whether in character or the real thing, it always seems like a really big deal to finally admit "Yes, we made a mistake and we're sorry." (then again, which country is truly comfortable with admitting their mistakes openly?) It's not easy admitting your mistakes and so I can also imagine that America is really unwilling to admit his openly, he probably also thinks that with time everything will turn out alright. (of course that will not be the case) And so, America will be for now pushed into the corner of shame and won't appear for the next few chapters. Sorry to my fellow USUK readers, I intend to firstly create a degenerating misunderstanding that will need to reach a few levels until it reaches crisis point before America reappears on the stage. His absence is sadly necessary for the plot but I swear more USUK moments will turn up. All I ask is patience and the will to enjoy a (really) long story.

Anyway, thanks for reading! ^^ Hope you enjoyed it.


	18. Chapter 18

And here I am again! ^^ I know people must be getting sick of my complaining about how difficult life is (because life is difficult for everyone, eh?) and just wanting me to finally post the next chapter. ...But I am easily influenced by the bad things happening in my life and so sometimes my writing is either bad or very negative. I'm not too sure how negative it is here, because recently two other things have been added to my plate of bad things since last time I posted a chapter. My near future has suddenly become really uncertain and cloudy so I'm really nervous and frightened and my family is breaking apart, in a few months the family I've known since I've been born will no longer exist. So I really apologize for delays in responding to reviews and possible delays in the next few chapters. I just feel so bad lately and on top of that I fell sick again yesterday. X_X I wish life would stop getting so difficult, or give me a rest from time to time.

Ah well, at least I got to write the dark voice again. :) Yes, it makes a return here! A little bit more light will be shed on it (if that was possible) but unfortunately I will just make things a bit more complicated then before. You guys should know me by now, I love complicating things... to a point a get tangled myself sometimes. But I will try not to get tangled in this. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: Hetalia and the characters don't belong to me!

* * *

Chapter 18

_England found himself in the complete darkness once again. He sighed heavily, why did he have to end up here whenever he fell asleep? In the last few times nothing had happened to him but he couldn't forget that one time when there had been someone else in the darkness._

_He was still frightened from that encounter and he still didn't know who it had been. All he knew was that it wasn't a nice person and was probably dangerous. He would have to be careful next time he felt the presence of that dark voice. _

_Suddenly something in the dark shifted quietly. England jumped and looked around quickly, trying to spot who else was in the darkness. Was it the same person again? He had to locate the voice quickly before it had a chance of attacking him from behind._

"_**I'm here**__." The dark voice drawled behind England._

_England spun around to face the very same green eyes that had haunted him before. The eyes were up close, uncomfortably close to England. How had the dark voice approached him so quickly? But… something was different._

_At first he just saw the silhouette and the green eyes of the dark voice but gradually other features started appearing from the darkness. Soon England could make out thick eyebrows and unruly blond hair on the form. Just like him._

_Except the form stood taller and looked a lot older than him. As the final features appeared on the form, England was unable to deny that the dark voice looked like a carbon copy of the older England in the photo the current England had seen. He also noticed that the image of the form would flicker from time to time and sometimes the edges of the form seemed to fade away before solidifying again._

_The form grinned sadistically down at the smaller nation. England took a step back, something in this form's expression was worrying and intimidating. _

_His green eyes still retained a frenzy glint. The form stared at England with a predatory grin and crouched lower so that he was at eye level with England._

"_**Do you still think you're England**__?" The form asked in a dangerous tone, his acidic eyes flashing._

_England nodded slowly, wary of what the form was intending to do next._

"_**And who do you think I am**__?" The form pointed at himself, arching a questioning thick eyebrow. For one moment he looked serious and sane. (how was that even possible?)_

_England considered the possibilities before timidly proposing, "England as well?"_

_The form cracked into a wide and cruel smile and without a warning he grabbed England's throat and hauled him into the air. England gasped in shock and fear and kicked out, scratching at the form's hands as he tried to get the form to release him. _

_Grip tightening, the form asked England gleefully, "__**And you know what's funny**__?" England stopped struggling and barely managed to shake his head, the grip on his throat choking him._

_The form growled, "__**Theoretically only one of us is allowed to exist. Now, what should I do with you, hmm**__?" England was finding it harder to breath and panic was starting to kick in. Was this older England trying to kill him? He was barely getting enough air into his lungs and he was starting to feel dizzy… _

"_LEAVE THE BOY ALONE!" Another voice screamed out suddenly._

_Out of nowhere another form crashed into them, causing the form to let go of England. England fell to the ground and inhaled deeply, refilling his air-deprived lungs. He looked up briefly to see two England-like forms fighting each other viciously. _

_The new form looked slightly younger than the first and his green eyes radiated anger and fierce protectiveness, a striking contrast to the other form's insane eyes. The older form was laughing as he dodged an attack from the younger form and then punched him squarely in the jaw. The younger form cried out in pain and fell to the ground._

_The insane form started snickering darkly as he looked down at the fallen form. __**"Well, well, it's been a while since I've seen you around. What took you so long coward?"**_

_The younger-looking England struggled back to his feet and spat hatefully, "Go crawl back to the hole where you came from! You're not England, you have no right to assume his image! Go away and stay away from England! You've done enough damage!"_

_The dark voice snorted, __**"Really now, is that all you can say to me after so much time? And I thought we were… friends."**__ He split into a wide grin at the last word._

_The other form scowled, "You thought wrong. Now go away." He slowly moved so that he stood in front of the smaller England who had been watching the confusing exchange between the two forms with worried eyes._

"_**I see. It is your nature that made England so weak. Maybe England should have died after all." **__The dark voice leaned to one side to see past the other form to see England, his eyes calculating._

"_Don't you dare you bastard!" The young form shouted angrily and launched himself fiercely at the insane form. Both forms started battling each other violently, struggling to gain the upper hand. England just stood there, trying to make sense what was going on. Who were these two forms and what were they? England was perplexed with the situation but he quickly became alarmed when he saw the glint of a knife. _

_The insane form was laughing hysterically and raised the dagger above his head to stab the younger one. The dark voice's image was flickering more and more and the darkness was starting to wrap itself around the younger form, making it difficult for him to move. He didn't notice the dagger. _

_Before England could shout a warning, he felt a hole opening beneath him and he fell through it. He found himself falling into a memory and by the sounds of it, he was falling right into another battle._

_England felt tears trickle down his cheeks as he felt the burning pain all over his body. The waves of pain ran through his body, causing him to writhe and scream on the blood-soaked ground._

* * *

When Japan woke up in the morning the first thing he noticed was that there had been no sound from England throughout the whole night. He was glad for that, it allowed him to sleep undisturbed and it also meant that England hadn't suffered from any nightmares.

Unfortunately these nights were rare so Japan always enjoyed these quiet nights where he wouldn't be woken up by a crying England.

Japan went to England's room to check on him. He was surprised when he found the room empty. England was already up? Japan called out but got no response. He then noticed something worrying on the ground.

Drops of blood.

There was a trail of blood that led out of the room. Japan followed the trail until it reached the bathroom. Japan let out a sigh of relief when he saw England. The little nation had clambered onto a chair and was looking at himself in the mirror.

Japan walked up to England, remembering that England was bleeding. "What happened England?" He jumped back in shock as England turned his head to face the Asian nation.

England's right side of the face was covered with blood. England was covering his right eye, the source of all the blood. The little nation was obviously distressed by the amount of blood and had even used a towel to try and stop the blood.

"Nite-maer..." England whispered, still covering his eye with his hand. After a couple of minutes the blood stopped flowing and eventually began to fade. England slowly opened his right eye and Japan saw the wound seal shut.

"I wonder what memory that wound belongs to." Japan said quietly, coming closer to England to inspect the eye. It was quite an odd place for a wound of a conflict to appear and it left no scar behind.

"... Ha-rolled." England attempted to explain, struggling to find the words. Well, actually struggling with the pronunciation of the words but Japan couldn't know that.

"Harold? Was that an important person?" Japan asked curiously. He then shook his head and proceeded to say, "Ah England-san, you have had so many wars and conflicts that I only know but a fraction of them. We really don't have much in common when we look at our history..."

Japan's own words made the Asian nation think. It was true, neither had really impacted the other nation's history until only recently. But... there was a nearby nation that England had more in common with: China! These two nations had quite a history together and a couple of conflicts as well. Japan found himself thinking, wouldn't it be good for England to spend some time with a nation with whom he shared more history with?

England was looking at Japan, as though he was trying to understand Japan's thoughts. Usually Japan's eyes remained neutral and hid his thoughts really well. But here England could see that Japan was deep in thought. What was he thinking about?

The other nation had made his choice. He would bring England to China later that day. It would be good for England. Japan smiled at the worried-looking nation and patted his head reassuringly.

"Come now England-san, would you like something to eat?" Japan asked kindly, helping England down from the chair.

England brightened at the idea of food and nodded enthusiastically. "Ye-s plee-ease!"

* * *

"Whe-ere arr wee gow-ing?" England asked Japan curiously as they appeared in front of an unfamiliar house. Japan was carrying England who was taking in the new surroundings with interest.

Where were they?

Japan smiled simply and answered, "We're going to visit someone that you might have met before. We will see if you recognise him."

When they reached the front door Japan knocked on it. After a couple of minutes the sounds of someone moving around inside was heard. There was the sound of the front door being unlocked. Finally the person opened the door.

Before them stood a man with a ponytail. England narrowed his eyes. He could find some similarities between this man and Japan but the most obvious difference was the man's eyes: They were lively and brightly lit. This was quite a contrast with Japan's rather calm and neutral gaze.

Right now the man with the ponytail looked momentarily surprised but quickly broke into a bright smile and greeted them warmly.

"Hello Japan, hello England aru!" He then looked at England and asked eagerly, "Do you remember me?"

England tried going through his memories quickly, the man was definitely familiar, even in his recent memories. England was sure that he had this man's name! He dug deeper into his memories.

Ah... Was that it?

"Ch-chi-nah?" England answered, not completely sure if that was the man's name. It turned out to be correct since the man looked very happy by England's response.

"Ah, he remembers my name aru! That's very good, he must be making good progress then." China stated cheerfully, studying England with interest. England heard Japan sigh silently.

"Oh, right, how rude of me. Do come in aru." China invited the two nations into his house. Japan gave a quiet "tsk" and set England down, both walking into the house. China followed them, keeping a careful eye on the way England walked.

England was quite surprised by China's home. There were a lot of things England hadn't seen before and was curious to discover what they were. He saw from the corner of his eye Japan and China talking quietly between each other. China looked very serious as he listened to what Japan was saying to him. England wasn't close enough to understand what they were saying and was for now too occupied by the unfamiliar surroundings to bother getting closer to hear what was being said.

He did look up when Japan started to leave. When their gazes met, Japan gave a slight nod and a smile before leaving. England stared after Japan in confusion.

Where was Japan going? Why wasn't he taking England with him?

A shadow fell over England. The little nation looked up to see China staring at him. England asked carefully, "Whe-ere iz Ja-pan go-ing?"

"He's going back home aru." China answered, leaning back and smiled, "You'll be staying with me for now."

England was speechless. He had no idea this had been decided and he found himself momentarily hurt by Japan's actions. Why had he done that without telling England anything about it? England didn't understand why there had been this sudden change but it was starting to bother him.

As far back as he could remember he kept changing places. At first it was with his brothers but he could hardly remember that time now. Then he was with Canada and suddenly he was with America. And then he was suddenly passed on to Japan. Now he was with China... why? England couldn't understand this cycle. Didn't anyone want him?

He desperately wanted to ask China but the elder nation had started to leave already. He looked back shortly to ask, "Do you want something to eat England aru? It's almost lunch time."

England nodded weakly, not knowing what else he should say. China smiled and went to the kitchen.

**He probably doesn't know**_. _A voice at the back of England's head said quietly. England heard it and accepted it, not giving it much thought. He failed to recognize that the voice had a darker undertone to it.

The small nation trudged after China sadly.

* * *

Sorry for the abrupt end of the chapter, I just kind of lacked the energy to write this chapter this time. Has anyone ever had that problem where you just lay there, unable to do anything, whether it is homework or fun-related? I hope I'll feel better next time where I'll feel more satisfied with the chapter.

Anyway, yes, Japan passed England on to China! And apparently England is starting to get bothered by the changes. Of course, no one has thought of explaining it to him because they all assume England wouldn't understand. And England can't really tell them that he can because he lacks the words. X_x Complicated situation, eh? For those interested, England is going to spend his time with at least two other nations like this. It's up to you guys to figure out who these two nations will be.

And our dark voice remains as mysterious as ever. I seriously doubt anyone will be able to guess what it is, I've had some really good guesses but I greatly doubt anyone will really figure it out. It is based on something realistic though I've twisted some things here and there to make it fit better into the story. Pay attention to how I described him, he's a "flickering image". So England's form isn't its actual form, I dare say it doesn't have really a form. It only mimics England so as to give the impression that it is one and the same England. The other form, the young teen England, should be recognizable from at least two anime episodes of Hetalia. What he is will be revealed soon, he had a lot more connection to England than the dark voice has.

That's all from me, now I must be off and TRY to finish this English essay that is due tomorrow. It's on the film "Truly,Madly, Deeply", if you've never watched it then GO WATCH IT ON YOUTUBE! It's an amazing movie about how to come to terms with the death of your loved one, especially if that person comes back to you in a ghost form. It's really beautiful.

Alright, see you all next time! I hope to have next chapter up in two weeks time! ;)


	19. Chapter 19

Hey, hey, everyone! ^^ Hope you guys didn't miss me too much! I really sound upbeat, don't I? Which is strange because I've had one of the busiest weekends I can remember. Made some life-altering decisions about which university I'm going to and my sister had her birthday today so I was pretty busy. On top of that my mother managed to accidently download a virus onto the computer and it took me 3 freaking hours to get rid of all the processes, registry keys and infected files associated to it, the virus itself annoying me with blocking nearly everthing like the internet, some programs and applications... yeah, we could say I'm the virus-expert in my family, I always have to deal with them. And my family has an uncanny ability to get the computer infected with a virus, not because we don't protect it well enough, but they're always going to places where they SHOUDLN'T go! So they always pick up the most dangerous viruses in existence. I've already had to ban my sister to a point that she can only go on Gmail and Youtube because she kept picking up viruses every second month. (I don't know how)

Anyway, my family told me that they really don't know what they will do without me once I'm gone to university and they get another virus. ^^; Ah well, I'm still ridiculously happy and hyperactive. Why? Because the sun is out!O_o Yes, for some reason the sun has been out all week and I've been nothing but happy all the time. I guess I didn't realize how much I missed the sun until it came back after all those grey winter months. Hopefully the sun will stay for a while, it really cures me from my usual depressions and tiredness. I just seem to feel more alive, even if my issues with RL haven't disappeared.

Hope you enjoy the chapter and don't worry if you can't follow entirely, I myself get lost in my thoughts sometimes.

Disclaimer: Hetalia and the characters don't belong to me.

* * *

Chapter 19

He knew from the beginning that China was different from Japan but this was just aggravating.

Ever since they had started to eat England felt constantly watched by China. China had finished eating quickly and just sat there wordlessly, watching England's every move. England now and again looked up but then promptly looked down at his plate again. China's direct gaze was making him uncomfortable.

England didn't even know why China was watching him so closely. Had he said something odd? Was it something in the way he acted? Why was China looking at him like that?

When England had finished eating he looked up again just to see that China was still staring at him in interest. England almost sighed. Could China stop looking at him with such a scrutinizing expression?

"Was it good aru?" China asked suddenly.

Taken a bit aback, England managed to mumble, "Goo-ud."

China nodded and stood up. He walked over to England and picked the little nation up. England immediately started to struggle, he already didn't know what to make of China and he definitely was not comfortable to be carried by that strange nation.

"Calm down aru! I won't hurt you! Stop struggling or you'll fall!" China warned loudly, trying not to drop England. He set England on the table.

England huffed and watched China suspiciously. What was the strange nation up to now? China carefully took England's arm and started examining it. He pressed several places of the arm, which caused England discomfort. His arm jerked from its own accord.

The little nation pulled his arm away from the Chinese, staring at his arm in wonder and flexed his fingers. Why had his arm jerked like that just before?

"Ah, you seem to have recovered your reflexes aru. That's really good, that means the muscles have recovered more or less." China exclaimed happily. He took England's arm again and manipulated it in different ways, testing if the arm had recovered all of its muscular functions again.

China then moved on to England's head. He tilted the head in different angles. England resisted no more, he had given up understanding China. The sooner China had satisfied his curiosity, the sooner he was free.

The elder nation studied England's face and eyes closely and ran his hands over England's body, pressing here and there and taking silent notes of how the muscles reacted. When China was finished he had established how much England's body had recovered.

China leaned back and smiled widely, "This looks very good, your body is healing well. My only concern would be the lack of growth... and I'm not completely sure about your memories. How much do you remember aru?"

England slowly shook his head and answered, "I doh-nn-t no."

China frowned slightly and proposed, "England, try to string your words more together when you're talking. It would help you to speak better aru. Try saying "My name is England"."

"M-my nay-meh..." England began but faltered when he saw China shake his head.

"No, that won't do aru. Just repeat after me." China ordered. "My."

"My." England echoed.

"Name."

"N-name."

"Is."

"Iz."

"England aru!"

"Ingland... aroo?"

China nodded in approval. "Alright, that's good. Try doing that more often when you talk. It will help you to regain your speech better."

The smaller nation pointed to his throat with a worried look and said, "My... v-voice... itz hard t-to talk w-with it."

The Chinese man leaned forward and with his hands felt England's throat. He then smiled gently and reassured, "Your vocal chords might be a bit rusty since you haven't used them in these last few weeks but the more you talk the easier it gets for you to pronounce words."

England took the information in and firmly decided that he should try to talk more often. But there was still something that was bothering England: What had happened to England? From what he could gather from China, something had happened to him that caused him to be not able to move or talk anymore. But what was it?

"W-why am I... like t-that?" England asked hesitantly, not looking up to China. China seemed caught off guard by the question and he quickly questioned, "Like what aru?"

The Brit motioned to himself as a whole, looking at China expectantly.

China let out a nervous laughter. "Ah, that aru? I'm afraid I don't really have the right to tell you why... I also think you wouldn't be able to understand. You will have to be patient and wait a little while until your brothers decide you are ready to hear about it."

England frowned at this explanation, "W-why?"

The Asian nation shrugged, "I don't know aru. Wales asked me and the other nations not to tell you anything. If you really want to find out, then you just need to ask Wales."

"China!" A voice that sounded far away called out.

England turned his head towards the voice and then looked back at China. He asked curiously, "Who iz t-that?"

China sighed, "Probably Hong Kong aru..."

"China!" The voice called out again.

"Who iz Hong Kong?" England questioned, finding the name slightly familiar. Where had he heard that name before?

"He's my younger brother aru. He also used to be your colony." China answered, his eyes clouding with an emotion that England could not describe.

"CHINA!"

"AIYAHH I'M COMING ARU!" China yelled back exasperatedly. He took England and put him back on the floor. China was muttering angrily, "... I really get no respect here, the younger ones have absolutely no respect for their elders..."

The irritated man started walking away and England quickly followed, not wanting to be left behind. He wanted to ask what a colony was but now did not seem like it was the best moment to do so.

They climbed up the stairs until they reached a room at the end of the hallway. A young nation stood outside the room, his arms crossed. Nation? England wasn't too sure, he didn't feel like a nation.

"What is it now aru?" China asked the other tiredly. England assumed that it was Hong Kong.

"The television is not working and since it's yours you should know what is wrong with it." Hong Kong replied coldly, his eyes neutral.

China's shoulders slumped. "Aiyah, why must you yell so loudly? And then expect me to fix the television. I'm no technician..." Despite China's grumbling, he walked past Hong Kong into the room and towards the television.

With China out of the way, Hong Kong finally spotted England. Hong Kong looked surprised and leaned down to confirm who it was. Now that Hong Kong's face was closer England noticed that this nation had thicker eye brows than China or Japan. Why?

"Why is Eyebrows here?" Hong Kong asked slowly, veiling his surprised face with a guarded expression.

China looked up from the television and answered, "Oh, England is staying here for a couple of days." He then returned his attention to the television.

Hong Kong quirked a thick eyebrow, "Is he now?" He reached forward and flicked England's hair. England moved out of reach, frowning. Why was there suddenly a malevolent glint in Hong Kong's eyes?

"Do you remember me?" Hong Kong asked quietly. England shook his head uncertainly, feeling like he should be careful around this person. Why was Hong Kong making England so nervous?

Hong Kong gave a small devious smirk. "I guess you will after this." He dug into his pocket and took out an object England didn't recognize. It looked like a long black string that had small red rods attached to it on both sides. England eyed it curiously.

England noticed Hong Kong take out a lighter. He was still smirking, the malicious glint in his eyes getting brighter. England watched Hong Kong's movement with interest.

Hong Kong lit the strange object.

* * *

China really should have seen it coming.

The room had fallen silent, much too silent. China should have guessed that something was going to happen, it was never this quiet when England and Hong Kong were in the same room. Hell, the moment China had heard the faint click from across the room he should have expected it.

But he didn't expect it. Not at all.

"AIYAHH!" China yelled out in panic when the silence of the room was destroyed by a series of loud bangs. The room was soon filled with smoke, causing China to cough.

"HONG KONG ARU! WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT FIRECRACKERS IN MY HOUSE?" China shouted angrily, whirling around to face Hong Kong. The younger brother was chuckling dryly, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Oops," Hong Kong murmured sarcastically, "Must have slipped my mind."

China was grumbling, willing his beating heart to calm down. He was too old for these kinds of pranks! Hadn't he told Hong Kong often enough that his firecrackers were not allowed to be lit in the house? So why had Hong Kong done it?

... It suddenly occurred to China that maybe the scare was not meant for him. He knew Hong Kong well enough. But would he really have done such a thing now? China turned back to Hong Kong and asked him carefully.

"Hong Kong, where is England aru?"

The ex-colony looked around him in mock surprise, wondering out loud, "Hmm, I don't know. I don't see our dear England anywhere here."

China rolled his eyes exasperatedly, "Hong Kong aru, England is recovering from a suicide attempt! Did you even think what your firecrackers could do to him in his fragile state?"

Hong Kong shrugged nonchalantly, "I just did it so that he would recognize me, since the old man hated my firecrackers so much and pretty much associated them with me. Chill China, he has probably run off to hide in a corner."

The elder nation glared at Hong Kong. "If England has a trauma after this, **you **are taking full responsibility aru!" He stalked past Hong Kong into the hallway, looking around for any traces of the small nation. Hong Kong rolled his eyes and followed China.

It took them around 5 minutes before they found England in China's room. Somehow England had managed to squeeze himself under China's bed and was refusing to be coaxed out.

"Come on England, there is nothing to be afraid of. It was just Hong Kong's firecrackers, you don't need to be afraid anymore." China reassured soothingly, trying to coax the frightened nation out.

Hong Kong heaved an annoyed sigh and crouched like China and reached under the bed. He grasped England's shirt and started to pull England out from under the bed.

The smaller nation protested loudly and tried twisting out of Hong Kong's grip. Hong Kong gave a sharp tug and pulled England out.

"Be gentle aru!" China warned, gathering England into his arms. England was trembling slightly. China shook his head and said, "Hong Kong, you cannot treat England as you would usually. He is not entirely himself, so don't be so harsh with him."

The ex-colony shrugged, not seeming to care. He then noticed that England was staring intensely at him.

England had turned his head to gaze at Hong Kong. He wasn't completely sure what those loud bangs meant but he definitely knew that Hong Kong had something to do with it and didn't even seem sorry about it.

Actually when England thought about, it seemed almost as if Hong Kong had deliberately done that to scare him. England's staring slowly changed to glaring. Now he did not feel just annoyance but also a new emotion: anger.

England was angry. And Hong Kong was just staring back at him coolly, completely unaffected by England's glare. China noticed the staring match that was going between the two but remained silent.

After a strained silence England finally muttered, "Ss-stu-pid."

Both Asian nations looked at England in shock before Hong Kong let out a short bark of laughter. He turned his attention to China.

"Not completely himself China? From what I hear, he sounds very much like England. Except he's brattier now." Hong Kong stood up and left the room, still chuckling dryly.

China stared after his brother and wondered why he was having a sinking feeling. He really hoped that Hong Kong and England would try to get along. China stared down to look at England.

England was still glaring after Hong Kong, though he was already out of sight. China spotted an all too familiar expression on England's face. It was the look of anger, hurt and vengeance. England's delinquent side was starting to shine through his eyes. He looked ready to start a fight.

The elder nation shuddered internally at the gaze.

He was going to have to keep a sharp eye on England.

* * *

_When England found himself in the dark again he was surprised to see a form of himself already there. England quickly tensed, ready to flee if this form attacked him. _

_But the other form just looked at him quietly and stayed sitting cross-legged on the ground. England looked closer at his eyes. No frenzy glint. England sighed in relief. It was the other form. _

_He still approached the form warily, he wasn't completely sure if this form was harmless. For now he was smiling gently at England, no hint of malice in his eyes._

"_Are you also England?" England asked carefully, sitting down in front of the form. _

_The form cocked his head to one side and countered curiously, "What do you think?"_

"_Well, you look like me..." England trailed off uncertainly._

"_You have your answer then." The England look-alike stated placidly. _

"_But I can't call you England since I'm also England and we would just get mixed up." England protested, looking at the form helplessly. He had to come up with a better name so that England wouldn't have to refer to the form as simply "the form" or "England look-alike". _

_The form shrugged. "What would you want to call me?"_

_England considered the other England for a moment before saying, "Maybe I'll call you good England."_

_The form arched an eyebrow in amusement and chuckled. "Me, good England? Why do you think that?"_

"_Well, you're better than the other one." England replied._

"_Which other?"_

"_The one you fought with last time!" England exclaimed impatiently._

"_Ah, him? What would be his name?" The form asked eagerly. _

"_Bad England, I suppose." England was taken aback when the form suddenly burst out laughing._

"_Me good and it bad? Oh, I wonder how it will react to that!" The form laughed loudly, holding his sides. England gave the form a confused look. _

"_Why is that so funny?" England asked perplexed._

_But the form never answered him. He suddenly stopped laughing and started staring off in the distance, tensing slightly. He stood up slowly and moved in front of England as if to protect him from something._

_England shifted silently, wondering if it was the other form that was coming. _

_After a moment of tense silence England finally could make out tired footsteps not far from them. Another England look-alike dissolved out of the darkness and started walking towards the two others._

_The form that stood in front of England tensed up even more and growled menacingly "Stay away!" England dared a peek to see if it was the same form with the crazy eyes. He was surprised to find that it wasn't. This form seemed a lot older than either previous forms and had tired eyes._

_The other form stopped a short way from them and sighed tiredly. "Oi, could you just drop it?" The form muttered dully before sitting down on the ground and watching them. His eyes were dull and lacked the healthy fire that should usually shine through them. His shoulders were slumped._

"_Who are you?" England dared himself to ask the tired form. _

"_I'm the you who has seen too many wars." The form answered bluntly, never breaking gaze with England. The younger form in front of England moved to block England from the tired form. England stared up to the form, somewhat confused by this form's behaviour._

_The war-weary form smiled weakly, "I wouldn't call the England in front of you "good"."_

_England attempted to move past the younger England towards the older, interested by what he was saying. He yelped when the form grabbed his wrist and yanked at it, pulling England away from the older form._

_The small nation turned around to glare at the form when the angry words suddenly died in his throat. The form seemed to age in front of him and the protective eyes saddened._

"_Don't leave me." He whispered, grip fiercely tightening on England's wrist. England heard the tired form behind him chuckle dryly. England turned his head to watch the older form helplessly._

"_It's just so easy for something good to turn bad and for something bad to turn good. This is especially the case for us, England." The tired form explained._

_England stuttered, "B-b-but I t-thought there was only two of you, one good and one bad!"_

_The younger form who still hadn't relinquished his grip on England's wrist said tensely, "There are more of us. More than you will ever know. You only see two of us because you want to. More of us will appear if you want to see more of us."_

"_I think I prefer staying with two now." England said nervously. There are more forms than he will be ever to know? He shuddered at the thought of seeing all of them at once. As an afterthought he asked, "What are you two actually?"_

"_We're your personalities England. We are what made you England. I'm your war-weary personality and he," the tired form pointed at the younger, "is your possessive personality."_

"_Possessive?" England asked curiously, staring up at the other personality. _

_He smiled bitterly, "Yes England, the you whose sole intention was to protect but over time it grew and became an obsessive need to protect, to own. The fear of losing, of letting go, making you want to keep things forever close to you." His grip on England's wrist tightened and he pulled England into a smothering hug._

"_And I don't want you to go again. If you do we'll all be lost again." The personality growled while England struggled weakly in the hug. When England finally managed to break free he immediately rushed towards the war-weary personality to seek refuge._

_As England stared from behind the older personality he could see the pain and hurt in the eyes of the possessive England, although he now also recognized an unhealthy light in his eyes. These eyes showed the hunger to possess and to own, a hunger England could barely comprehend._

"_He isn't that wrong actually." The war-weary England admitted. "It's been a little chaotic ever since your little deed England."_

"_You also played a part in it!" Possessive England yelled at war-weary England who cringed slightly._

"_What deed?" England asked curiously. Both personalities looked at the nation silently before possessive England sighed, "We don't actually know. We just have a feeling which of the personalities played a part in it. When you lost your memories we disappeared too."_

_War-weary England nodded, "The more memories you regain England the more personalities will reappear. But I don't know if they will all come back, some might even be lost for good."_

_England looked at both personalities in confusion. This just seemed to get more and more complicated. England wished simply for a short explanation. But no one seemed to be able to offer that._

"_But who was the other one, the one with the crazy eyes? Why do you keep referring to him as an "it"?" England asked, trying to understand what was going on._

"_Who?" Possessive England looked confused by the question, looking over to war-weary England for answers._

"_Didn't you fight him- I mean it last time?" England was confused, hadn't possessive England fought the dark voice last time?_

_War-weary England shook his head, "It was your protective personality who fought the dark voice last time, not your possessive personality." Then he scowled, "The dark voice is not a personality, never was and never will be. Don't mistake it with us, it may claim to be you or part of you but it isn't. It doesn't even have a gender to begin with."_

"_But every time the dark voice spoke, the voice sounds like a male to me." England pointed out, frowning in confusion._

"_That's because it assumes your voice to talk and sometimes it assumes your image to make you believe it is England. But never trust it, it has brought you nothing but pain and unhappiness." War-weary England said stiffly, his dull eyes showing raw anger within them._

_England considered the personality's words for a moment before asking quietly, "So I assume that neither if you know what exactly the dark voice is, right?"_

_Both personalities nodded slowly and possessive England added, "But I do think it's been around ever since you grew up."_

_The island nation sighed, he wasn't any closer to understanding what the dark voice was. At the very least it hadn't shown up now, or at least it had stayed silent. England had no wish to hear it again._

_He felt a tugging behind him. England turned around to see a hole open itself behind him and looking inside England could see that it was another memory._

"_Ah, seems like you're going to regain a new memory." War-weary England actually sounded hopeful when he said that. England looked back at the older personality helplessly._

"_Do I have to go?" England whined, knowing he will feel pain again._

"_If you want answers." Both personalities answered simultaneously and dissolved into the darkness. England stared at the hole before him and sighed._

_Taking in a deep breath he jumped into the hole._

* * *

Hong Kong turned around in his bed and let out a sigh of frustration. China had warned him, of course he had, that England suffered from nightmares. Hong Kong still couldn't help but feel irritated by the soft sobs that came from the other room. Why did China live in a house with thin walls?

It was official: Hong Kong could not sleep. And that statement alone annoyed him. He glared through the wall into the next room where he knew England was.

England had to be doing this on purpose, keeping Hong Kong from a good night's sleep. It was revenge for the firecrackers earlier, Hong Kong was sure of it. Hong Kong's expression darkened with a scowl.

Well he was going to show England who was stronger. Hong Kong would then see if England ever dared to keep the ex-colony from sleep after he was finished with the Brit. But... unfortunately China was around so Hong Kong had to be careful. Maybe nothing too drastic.

Hong Kong heard the sobs in the next room grow louder.

With another frustrated sigh Hong Kong got out of his warm bed and padded quietly to England's room. He entered England's room silently and walked over to England's bed. The room was weakly lit by the pale half-moon outside the window. The little nation was curled up into a ball on his side. He continued sobbing quietly in his sleep.

"Hey, can you stop? I'm trying to sleep." Hong Kong hissed under his breath, glaring at England. When England failed to respond to Hong Kong's demand he poked England's cheek repeatedly in annoyance.

Before Hong Kong knew what had happened England had reached out and grasped Hong Kong's finger. The ex-colony blinked in surprise and was even more startled when England pulled Hong Kong's hand closer to him.

Hong Kong stared at England both in shock and confusion. England still appeared to be asleep as he pulled Hong Kong's hand closer to his cheek, seeking comfort. Hong Kong felt the wet tears that were rolling England's cheek.

Suddenly Hong Kong felt awkward. England was, although asleep, seeking comfort from Hong Kong. An ex-colony England once had openly admitted he didn't get along well with. Hong Kong hadn't actually ever been exposed to such a situation. He didn't know what to do but England's tears was causing something odd in him to stir.

What did one do to stop the other from crying? Hong Kong dug through his memories, he knew China had taken care of a lot of nations when they had been younger so he must have been in such a situation before. What did China do? He comforted the crying nation. But how?

China would sing a lullaby. Yes, now Hong Kong remembered. In his distant memories Hong Kong remembered that when he was crying China would sing him a lullaby. He looked down at England.

Well, England wasn't exactly a little child, China had made it clear to Hong Kong that England was stuck in a body of a child with very little memory. But would a lullaby work? Would it calm the crying nation down? Hong Kong dimly remembered a particular lullaby that China would sing to him often.

Hong Kong supposed he had to try. He dearly hoped that neither England nor China would ever bear witness to what he was about to do.

The ex-colony took in a shaking breath and song softly, "_The moon is bright... the wind is quiet, the tree leaves hang over the window..._" He paused, looking around warily to ensure no one was listening to him. He looked back to England whose sobs were already starting to die down.

He continued quietly, "_My little baby..._," Hong Kong averted his eyes a bit at that awkward line, "_go to sleep quickly, sleep, dreaming sweet dreams. The moon is bright, the wind is quiet..._," Hong Kong paused again, not sure what the next line was.

But he quickly remembered and sang the rest, "_The cradle moving softly, my little one, close your eyes, sleep, sleep, dreaming sweet dreams_."

When he had finished he quickly noticed one thing: England had stopped crying! The tears had stopped and nothing but soft breathing could be heard from the little nation. Hong Kong raised his thick eyebrows in surprise. So a lullaby did work!

Hong Kong gently pulled his hand away from England's grasp, careful not to wake the nation. He still had that odd feeling in his chest but Hong Kong did not dislike it exactly.

The ex-colony walked out of the room quietly, shutting the door behind him. He slid back into his bed and sleep came to him quickly.

* * *

Eh... don't freak out on my characterisation of Hong Kong! D: I based his personality on the extract of the RPG Fantasy game CD thing, where I was quite surprised by how... suave and sarcastic he sounded. But the last scene was also there to show that Hong Kong is not inherently an evil character, especially since in the next chapter I might expect a backlash from the readers on what Hong Kong will do. The lullaby that I used does actually exist, its called the Northeastern Cradle Song and is a Chinese lullaby. (it was also the only Chinese lullaby Google would give to me strangely enough) This scene might bear a resemblance to another earlier scene where Wales also sings a lullaby to England. Reason why: The scene with Hong Kong was already planned to be written, I knew I wanted to write this scene long before I reached the point where I could write it. The scene with Wales was requested by RedHatMeg and since I couldn't see this scene interfering with the story, I decided to write it. But otherwise this story is following a strict agenda and I avoid anything that might cause it to deviate.

Also, I really hope none of you are too confused by my concept of England's personalities. Essentially, since England had lost his memories, the personalities that made England the character we know him to be were also lost. Now that fragments of the memories are returning, the personalities are also returning but weaker, since England hasn't fully recovered yet. There's also a chance that some of the personalities might not come back or be barely there because they are attached to some memories but the current England is no longer defined by that particular personality. (... I'm really getting confusing, aren't I?) The inspiration I have for the different aspects of England's character comes from a pine cone that was shown to me when I was younger. The places where the seeds came from had all been painted a different colour and I was told that every faction contained a different personality, showing that every individual person is unique and can have up to hundreds of different personalities that define us. It did leave an impression on me on the nature of the individuals and their characters.

Oh, I was also exposed to such a situation like Hong Kong. X3 While babysitting two girls, I put the youngest to bed first and she started crying for her mother. And it was really awkward for me, I didn't know what to do first because I had never been in that kind of situation before. My thought process was similar to Hong Kong's, I finally guessed I had to sing a lullaby. Trouble was I didn't know any but I picked a song I knew off by heart and that had a lullaby-like quality to it. Luckily the song was in another language and the girl didn't understand it and fell alseep REALLY quickly. O_O I was lucky she didn't understand because the song was about a girl that drowned in a river because the guy who had a crush on her didn't have the courage to save her. (wow, I'm really morbid)

Well, hope you liked this chapter even with its confusing and abstract ideas and lengthy author notes. See you all next time! ^^


	20. Chapter 20

So, who's surprised that I'm updating so early? By now most of you would have noticed that I update every two weeks but this time it's only one! ^^ I can't update any quicker, sorry. This would be the quickest I can manage. Other news: The sun is gone! T_T I'm sad again! Not badly but I really realize now how much the sun means to me. Last night there was a really violent flash storm and I swear, that storm was circling! Ten minutes of downpour and thunder and then ten minutes nothing, not even rain. That repeated itself about 3 times and everytime the rain and the lightening came back the eye of the storm was getting closer and closer, the gap between a lightening and the following thunder became smaller and smaller. At one point I barely had time to count to one after a bright lightening that I heard the loudest clap of thunder EVER in my life! It was so loud the vibrations of the sound hit my chest. (not unlike standing in front of a stereo at a disco party) I got scared so I jumped out of my bed and the second thunder was much louder, some of my things in the room rattled and fell. (why is my room just beneath the roof of my home?) I eventually rushed downstairs and seeked refuge in the kitchen (where my frightened cat clambered onto me and gave me a Harry Potter-like scratch on my forehead. =.=) All in all, I got less than 4 hours sleep of that night. O_O

Alright, on to the chapter! 8D

Disclaimer: Hetalia and the characters don't belong to me.

* * *

Chapter 20

The very next morning things between England and Hong Kong had not changed much apparently. China and England were already in the kitchen eating their breakfast when Hong Kong trudged in silently.

China immediately noticed Hong Kong's tired expression and asked, "Are you okay Hong Kong aru? Didn't you sleep well?"

Hong Kong looked up to China and shrugged, "Well, how am I supposed to "sleep well" when this brat next door couldn't stop crying like a baby for most of the night?" He then sent a cold glare towards England.

England registered quickly that he had been insulted and felt hurt. The whole concept of throwing insults here and there was completely unfamiliar to him but if Hong Kong continued he doubted he would allow Hong Kong to get away with it unscathed.

"I h-had n-night-maers!" England replied defensively and frowned. He was really starting to dislike Hong Kong, what wrong had he done to him?

"N-n-nice s-s-stuttering t-there E-england." Hong Kong replied haughtily, exaggerating the stuttering of England. England's face flushed red in anger but before he could open his mouth and retaliate, China interrupted.

"Hong Kong, may I speak to you for a moment aru?" China stood up briskly and walked out of the kitchen, Hong Kong following after him slowly.

When they out in the hallway, China closed the door so that England was out of earshot. He turned towards Hong Kong and looked at him sternly.

"Look Hong Kong, I know that you and England don't get along well aru. But for goodness sake stop provoking him! I don't want you to trigger England's aggressiveness at such an early stage."

"Why not?" Hong Kong demanded. "It's part of his personality to be aggressive. So why can't I annoy him?"

"Because England... from what I can gather, everything that made up England's character was wiped out aru. So what we have here is an England who is easily influenced, he will pick up things from around him to rebuild himself. If you constantly provoke him you might cause England to become a highly irritable and aggressive nation, even worse than he used to be. We have to avoid that." China explained, looking at Hong Kong to make sure his younger brother was listening.

For the first time Hong Kong allowed some uncertainty to appear in his eyes. "But won't England become the nation he used to be?" He asked slowly.

China shook his head. "Probably not and I don't think it's wise to encourage England to return to who he used to be aru."

"Why?"

"You know what drives a human to commit suicide? It's their way of saying that they can't continue the way they are, that something has to change aru. Very few nations in the past have ever considered committing suicide and the fact that England is among these few does show that something in his life has to be changed. My guess is that England was emotionally very unstable which caused him to make such a rash decision in ending his life." China looked Hong Kong squarely in the eyes. "That means for the sake of his recovery we must attempt to keep England as emotionally stable as possible. We should at least try to make England a better person and give him no more reason to hide behind his mask again."

Hong Kong looked down to his feet, nodding slowly, "I understand."

China smiled relieved, "I'm glad you do. Today I should see how far England is in regaining reading and writing." He turned and reopened the door, returning to the kitchen. England was still seated and looked up when he heard the door open. He smiled when he saw that it was China.

Hong Kong stayed behind and watched England and China silently. He allowed a small smirk to form on his face. Alright, he understood he shouldn't tease England verbally. But China had not mentioned whether or not Hong Kong was allowed to tease England at all. Hong Kong liked teasing England, the Brit always reacted in an amusing way.

Well, teasing never killed anyone. He supposed some teasing wouldn't be too bad for England.

And teasing he did, to England's misfortune. Of course nothing bad but it was enough to aggravate England. Hong Kong did little things throughout the day such as flicking some water at England, purposely closing the door so that England was stuck in the room, giving England vinegar when he asked for something to drink, ruffling England's hair and "accidently" pouring some water on him when watering the China's plants. Of course Hong Kong did all that when China wasn't watching and so the elder nation never learned of this silent teasing.

England was barely two days in China's home and he was already extremely hostile towards Hong Kong. Every time Hong Kong entered the same room in which England was, the small nation would immediately seek shelter near China. England was not stupid, he quickly saw the pattern in Hong Kong's teasing. He always did it when China was not looking or was out of the room. So if England was near China Hong Kong was less likely to try anything.

He never thought of mentioning it to China. England didn't think it would stop the teasing so he endured the teasing silently. Something inside him... England thought it was maybe pride that was stopping him from complaining. He quickly gave up trying to understand why Hong Kong was always annoying him. He just did.

And it frustrated England. He had to be constantly on his watch because he never knew when Hong Kong would strike. There were times where Hong Kong would simply ignore England and then other times where he would suddenly pull a prank on England.

England sighed as he once again had to flee from Hong Kong. He found refuge in his room, shaking his head to rid himself of the rice that was in his hair. Oh, as if England did not see Hong Kong smile maliciously as he grabbed the bowl and "accidently" tipped half of the contents on England.

As he tried to get the remaining rice out of his hair, England couldn't help but grit his teeth in anger. Tears of frustration appeared at the corners of his eyes but they refused to spill. Why couldn't Hong Kong just stop teasing him? He had demanded Hong Kong to stop before but the ex-colony just shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

When he finally got the last of the rice out of his hair England walked out of his room warily, keeping an eye on his surroundings in case Hong Kong decided to pull a prank on him again. He walked down the stairs to see China opening the front door.

"W-where are u goin?" England asked hastily, a little fear in his voice.

China turned to look at England and said, "I'm just going out for a while to buy some groceries aru. Don't worry, I'll be back soon."

England was about to protest but it was too late, China had already closed the door. England looked around him, now he was all alone against Hong Kong. He no longer had a safe refuge. England slowly walked down the hallway, making sure not to make a sound.

"So, China has gone out?"

The little nation spun around and swallowed nervously when he saw Hong Kong at the top of the stairs. Hong Kong's expression was neutral but that made England even more nervous. What was he planning?

Hong Kong sauntered down the stairs and made his way towards England. Two things kept England frozen to his place: fear and determination not to show Hong Kong that he was afraid.

"Aww, widdle England want to show he isn't scared? Now that China isn't here to protect to protect widdle England?" Hong Kong smirked, his eyes alight with malice.

Hong Kong picked England up by gripping the back of the shirt and walked over to the coat racks attached to the wall beside the front door. He lifted England up and hung him from one of the coat racks.

England frowned and immediately started squirming, demanding loudly, "L-let me dow-own!"

Hong Kong smiled and wagged a finger at England, "Now, now, don't struggle so much or you will fall down. You will hang here for just a while, China is out and I don't feel like making sure you don't get into any trouble. So, just have patience. It's a virtue after all." Giving a bark of laughter Hong Kong walked away, leaving England hanging on the coat rack.

England squirmed again but after he looked down, he thought better of it. He didn't really want to fall, it seemed a long way from where he hung. England sighed in frustration, why was Hong Kong so cruel to him? It's not like England had done anything of the sort to Hong Kong! ... Or had he?

Had England done something to Hong Kong in his past life? England couldn't remember but then again there were many things he didn't remember. So was it possible that something had happened between him and Hong Kong so that they weren't on friendly terms today?

That's when a memory decided to reappear in England's consciousness.

_England was peacefully asleep on the couch, a book in his hands. Hong Kong, at that time a younger child, approached England stealthily making sure not to wake up the elder nation._

_The colony dug out from his pocket some firecrackers. The child smirked and took out a box of matches. He lit several of the firecrackers and left them near the couch. When they all exploded England jolted out of his sleep with a loud yelp. _

_He jumped off the couch and looked around him, trying to see where the loud bangs had come from. When he finally saw Hong Kong hiding behind the couch England demanded angrily, "Hong Kong, was it your firecrackers which made this entire racket again?"_

_Hong Kong did not look up but he nodded slowly. England frowned and asked in a dangerous tone, "What have you got to say for yourself?"_

_The colony continued to look down, not meeting England's gaze. This seemed to infuriate the elder nation and he ordered, "Look at me when I'm talking to you!"_

_After a moment Hong Kong finally looked up. His expression remained impassive, his eyes betraying no emotion. England only seemed to get angrier at Hong Kong's indifference and he growled, "Well?"_

_That was when a small smirk formed on the Asian's face. The corners of his lips curled upward into a little "you-deserved-it" smirk. _

_England's eyebrows shot up in shock but his expression quickly twisted into an enraged scowl. He muttered words under his breath that were almost inaudible and were otherwise incomprehensible. There was a flash of light._

_Suddenly Hong Kong was struck by a ray of green light and fell to the ground. When he shakily stood up again England blinked in surprise._

_Hong Kong's eyebrows had become thicker, almost like England's. Hong Kong felt his face warily and noticed the thicker eyebrows. He looked up at England in amazement and horror but this quickly transformed into mistrust and hurt. _

_The Asian colony quickly spun around and ran off, leaving England stunned behind._

England opened his eyes again as the memory came to an end. Well, that would explain why Hong Kong reacted so hostile towards England and why he seemed to enjoy to annoy England. But why were they even at that time already on bad terms? What did it actually mean to be a colony? Had England ever been one?

He hung there for a while, lost in his thoughts and not really paying attention to his surroundings. He definitely didn't want to be reminded that he was hanging from a coat rack. After a while he became aware of footsteps approaching the house.

England looked up, feeling hopeful. Was China coming back? He would be able to get England down from the coat rack. A moment later the door was unlocked and opened.

Instead of China entering it was a young female nation who walked into the house. England gazed at the unfamiliar girl with a curious expression. She resembled China but her bright eyes had something fierce within them and she had pink flowers in her hair.

She called out, "Hey China, I'm _**home**_!" The girl spat the word "home" out bitterly. England wondered why silently.

After a moment of waiting, she looked around and finally spotted England hanging from the coat rack. Her eyes immediately softened and she smiled. She approached England and asked curiously, "You're England, right? I heard you turned into a child from China. Do you know where he is? And why are you on the coat rack?"

"Chi-nah is out. Hong Kong p-put me he-here." England answered, wondering who this girl was.

The girl nodded sympathetically, "Ah Hong Kong, already up to his old antics, huh? He can never give the elder nations a break. I see he hasn't been easy on you, even though you're so small now." She reached out and unhooked England's shirt from the coat rack.

She held England close to her, beaming down at him. "Hey, you're quite cute like this!" She remarked but then frowned. "Is that rice in your hair?" She asked, as she spotted the white grains in England's hair.

England reddened at the question, raising his hand to discard the few rice grains he had missed. He sighed sadly, "Hong Kong l-likes to t-tease me."

"Indeed he does." The girl agreed but quickly added with a sly smile, "But there is a remedy to that. Get back at him!"

England looked at her confused. "G-get b-back at him?"

She nodded enthusiastically, "Get back, revenge, you know, an eye for an eye! If he teases you then tease him back!"

"But h-how? I'm too s-small to d-do that." England questioned incredulously, he knew he was much too small to stand up against the ex-colony.

"Just because you're small doesn't make him better than you. Be sly and use your cunning. Keep a watchful eye and strike him when he is at his weakest! Do something he really doesn't like." The girl smiled, her eyes glinting excitedly. She wasn't against Hong Kong but she felt that he needed a taste of his own medicine from time to time.

The little nation was silent, having at first struggled with some of the words she had said and now was considering the idea. Him, strike back at Hong Kong? It didn't sound unattractive at all.

He looked up again and asked, "W-what is your n-name?"

The girl blinked and then laughed softly, "I guess I forgot that you lost your memories... I'm Taiwan!"

"Tai-wan." England echoed, trying to remember if he had heard the name before. He certainly must have or else Taiwan wouldn't have recognized him.

"Alright, let's now see what Hong Kong is up to!" Taiwan announced, starting to walk towards Hong Kong's room. England, still in her arms, struggled and protested, "I d-don't want t-to be near him!"

"Don't worry," Taiwan assured, "With me around Hong Kong will do nothing to you."

England didn't know if he should feel relieved because he wasn't sure if she was telling the truth. Soon they were entering Hong Kong's bedroom, where the ex-colony was playing a video game.

Upon hearing footsteps Hon Kong looked up to see who was coming in. He rolled his eyes and complained, "Taiwan, why didn't you leave him where he was? At least there he couldn't make any trouble."

Taiwan smiled grimly as she sat down on Hong Kong's bed and set England beside her. She countered teasingly, "What happened to all that talk about picking on someone your own size?"

Hong Kong frowned but then shrugged, returning to his game. Taiwan and England shared a glance, Taiwan winking silently at England. England didn't understand the gesture but then saw Taiwan mouth silently, "_Strike him at his weakest. Use your brain instead of your strength."_

England looked at her and nodded firmly. The thought of getting back at Hong Kong kind of excited him.

* * *

And so began the planning. England learned to watch Hong Kong carefully but above all, discreetly. He learnt that by watching closely England would see many things he wouldn't have noticed otherwise.

Of course now and again England had to run when Hong Kong felt like teasing him again but it made England more determined to get back at Hong Kong. He was at a disadvantage by the fact that he was smaller than Hong Kong so there were many things that were out of reach for England.

He had quickly come to the conclusion that the only time he could strike was during the night. During that time Hong Kong would be asleep and be an easy target. Any other time was inconvenient for England so he would have to wake up during the night to carry out his revenge.

Next England settled on what the revenge was going to be. He was struck by inspiration one morning when they were all in the kitchen. China was preparing breakfast when Hong Kong walked up to the counter to get himself a glass of water. After just a moment he pulled his hand back from the counter and wrinkled his nose. He went to the sink and washed his hand.

"China, can you stop being so messy with the honey and leaving it everywhere? I hate how it sticks." Hong Kong complained, staring at the jar of honey that lay not far from him in disdain.

England sat up at these words. _He hates the feel of honey? _England thought silently. _I hate having rice in my hair... _England's thoughts trailed off when his mind put two and two together and suddenly the perfect plan was born in his head. _Why don't I do that! _England could barely contain his excitement at the idea.

He quickly looked down at his bowl of noodles, making sure Hong Kong wouldn't see his expression. It wouldn't do to have the ex-colony suspicious. However there was another bit of detail missing in his plan: when the deed would be done, England might have to flee from Hong Kong. What would he have to do to ensure himself a safe escape?

That's when the idea of firecrackers entered into England's plan. The little nation remembered the amount of smoke these objects had created and England was convinced he could use them to his advantage.

England didn't even have to worry where they were. It was really by chance that he saw where Hong Kong hid them by passing Hong Kong's room and seeing Hong Kong push a box full of firecrackers inside the closet and hiding the box under a pile of clothes.

Now he just had to get the jar of honey. Though it was difficult climbing up the chair and onto the counter, England finally succeeded and took the jar. He quietly slipped down the chair and went up to his room without making a noise. England tucked the jar of honey carefully under the bed, to the furthest corner.

Later England would hear China call out, "Hong Kong aru, where did the jar of honey go!"

Hong Kong would answer from his room, "I haven't touched it, I have no idea where it could be! You must have misplaced it again!"

England, who was sitting on his bed, was going through the last details of his plan. He barely suppressed a giggle that was fighting its way out of his chest. He would finally get back at Hong Kong for all the times he had teased him.

The plan would be carried out tonight. England smiled with excitement.

Tonight was the night!

* * *

England opened one eye. The little nation stirred and sat up in his bed. He looked around and nodded.

It was still dark. Now he could carry out his revenge! England smiled at the thought.

He slid out of the bed silently, and tiptoed out of his room. The house seemed truly different in the night, the darkness giving the impression that the house was bigger. The dark shadows that stretched out in the hallway almost intimidated England. But just almost.

When he reached Hong Kong's room, England was glad to see that the door had been left open. Otherwise England would have struggled to open the door, he couldn't even reach the door handle!

The little nation slipped into the room, taking care not to make any noise at all. He walked up to the bed to be sure that Hong Kong was asleep. England needn't have worried, by the looks of it Hong Kong was sleeping deeply.

He turned towards the closet where he knew the box of firecrackers was. England pushed the clothes off the box and carefully pulled the box out of the closet. The box landed on the floor with a bump.

England quickly turned around to see if the noise had woken Hong Kong up. But the ex-colony just yawned and turned over in his bed.

Approaching the box, England's eyes lit up with excitement. _So many firecrackers..._ he thought dazedly. He even spotted a lighter among the firecrackers! He took an armful of the firecrackers and carried them out of the room.

Now the question was: where would he put the firecrackers? England needed a good escape route so any room that had only one doorway was out of question. He finally decided on the living room, it had about three doorways. More than enough possibilities for England to flee if the need ever arise after his revenge (a gut feeling told him it would).

The firecrackers were put everywhere England could think of. Under the table and sofa, on them, strewn across the floor, on the chairs, simply everywhere. Of course England went back and forth to get more firecrackers since he assumed, the more firecrackers, the more smoke. Thus a higher chance for England to escape!

England almost used three quarters of the box and he was also proud of himself. He had finally figured out what the strings were! Yes, he himself had been surprised when he finally understood that by connecting all the strings, it would be possible for England to just light one end of the string and have ALL of them explode!

The little nation stood up, admiring his handiwork. Though it was almost too dark, one could see that the whole room was literally covered with firecrackers. Staring outside the window England jolted slightly. The sky didn't seem so dark anymore. England would have to hurry.

Hurrying up the stairs quietly, England slipped back into his room to retrieve the jar of honey. He carried it carefully to Hong Kong's room, making sure not to hit the door as he tiptoed into the room.

Getting on the bed was a bit of a challenge, England had to grip the mattress to haul himself up. He turned around and pulled the jar up with him. England started as he felt the bed shift behind him but luckily Hong Kong was just turning around again. The ex-colony stayed fast asleep, unknowing of what was about to happen.

When England opened the jar he was glad to find that there was already a spoon inside. He took the spoon out and after some consideration England took some honey out and spread it on Hong Kong's pillow, completely surrounding his head. That way, when Hong Kong turned his head, he would inevitably roll his head into the honey.

Now began the risky operation. England dipped the spoon back into the jar and took out some honey. He carefully allowed the honey to drip into Hong Kong's hair, making sure it did not fall on his face. Now and again England would rub the rest of the honey unto the ends of Hong Kong's hair before dipping the spoon back into the jar.

After 5 minutes of work Hong Kong's hair was almost entirely covered by honey. England continued slathering honey here and there in Hong Kong's hair until he jumped when he felt the bed shift again.

England heard Hong Kong yawn loudly. Slowly England turned to look at Hong Kong's face.

As he looked his face paled considerably at what he saw.

Hong Kong's dark eyes were open and looking at England, questioning the presence of the Brit in his room.

* * *

*cackles evily* Another cliffhanger! 8D *gets shot* Ouch, sorry, sorry, I just want you guys to become curious about what will happen next. It gives me something to jump off from so that the writing of the next chapter is easier and I like what I write better. We have in this chapter the classic example of teasing and how badly it can morph into if you're not careful. As I said, Hong Kong is NOT inherently evil however I do see him as someone who enjoys teasing and since we all know England as a very teaseable character, it was inevitable. Hong Kong does not really consider the effects his teasing is having on England and our dear Brit doesn't realize that his revenge is quite dangerous. (firecrackers =/= means of escape)

There will be about 2 more chapters of England being with the Asian nations but then I will be moving to... (seriously, most of you should be having a suspicion of where I'm going to send England next) England has almost regained normal speech, so rejoice! ^^ I seriously hope I did not portray Hong Kong as too cruel in this chapter, I just go from the assumption that Hong Kong would have resented England for seperating him from China and hurting China and on top of that, the Kirkland eyebrow curse. And I also hope people like how I wrote Taiwan, she's the second female character of this entire story that I have written so far. That really surprised me. O_o

Alright, hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and with the people who want America to return, don't worry he will return! And once he does he won't leave the stage and will be present till the end of the story. But for now I need him to be absent for a little while. He might cameo in an earlier chapter but won't be central to it. Just trust me, there will be plenty of UsxUk in the story. Just not in this phase right now. See ya all next time! ^^ Thanks for reading and being so patient with me!


	21. Chapter 21

Hey there, next chapter has come as promised. Now you'll find out the consequences of England's revenge! ^^ On another note, the sun has come back so I've been nothing but hyper all the time! XD That really feels good but the unfortunate thing is, though now I have holdidays, I actually should be studyng for my exams. ;A; The biggest exams will be coming soon, in less than two months. And I have LESS than three weeks of school left! T_T That's actually really scary, it brings forward all those questions whether I'm ready or not.

Anyway, enjoy the next chapter!

Disclaimer: Hetalia and the characters don't belong to me. (is there actually a reason why I must always put this disclaimer? It's not like anyone believes I'm Himaruya...)

* * *

Chapter 21

Hong Kong blinked his eyes blearily, still slightly sleepy. England quickly scrambled off, jumping from the bed and landing on the floor with a bump. He hastily got to his feet and watched Hong Kong warily.

The ex-colony blinked again as he sat up and stared at England, as if trying to find an explanation for England's presence in his room. He did seem to feel something... odd. Hong Kong knew something was up. He raised his hand to his face.

That was when he felt it. Something sticky was dripping from his hair.

He pulled his hand back to look at the substance. Then he looked at the honey jar that was still on his bed. Then his gaze finally settled on England.

Hong Kong narrowed his eyes, his blank expression turning into a scowl. England gulped at the sight.

"You are so dead." Hong Kong whispered menacingly, standing up from his bed. He towered over England, almost intimidating the little nation.

But just almost.

England took a deep breath and swiftly turned around, grabbing the lighter that lay on the floor and ran out of the room. He heard quick footsteps behind him, Hong Kong was following him!

Briefly blinded by panic England quickly recovered and ran towards the stairs. He was glad he had practiced his running with the spirit back at Japan's house, or else he didn't know how he would have been able to get away from Hong Kong.

He jumped down the steps, hoping he wouldn't trip and fall. He heard a tired voice call out, "What is going on so early in the morning aru?"

Neither England nor Hong Kong paid heed to the voice and the chase continued. England skidded slightly as he turned around the corner and ran into the living room. Hong Kong was hot on his heels.

England jumped and reached the spot where the thread was that connected all the firecrackers together. He gripped the end of the thread in one hand and the lighter in the other and yelled, "S-stop Hong Kong!"

Hong Kong skidded to a halt, panting harshly as he glared at England furiously. Then he grew surprised as he saw the thread that England was holding. The ex-colony looked around him and even in the faint light of the dawn Hong Kong could see that the room was covered in firecrackers.

He paled at the amount and he turned his attention back at England, dumbfounded. He then slowly started walking towards England, his face deadpan. England panicked when he saw Hong Kong approach and lit the lighter.

Hong Kong paled even more when he heard the click and saw England approach the lighter to the thread.

Before he could say anything England had already lit the thread. Hong Kong mumbled curses under his breath as he realised that England had somehow figured out how to connect all the firecrackers together so that they would all explode at the same time.

Hong Kong hurled himself at England just as the spark of flame reached the first batch of firecrackers.

* * *

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING ENGLAND ARU?" China yelled angrily, gesticulating wildly with his hands. England shrank back at China's voice, looking down to his feet.

The living room was still covered with some smoke but the damage the firecrackers inflicted was already becoming visible. There were scorch marks everywhere and many items of the room were badly burned. England and Hong Kong themselves were covered in soot from head to toe although admittedly Hong Kong took the worse hit.

His hair was singed and his clothes had also been burnt. Luckily it didn't seem like his skin had been burnt.

"Well aru?" China demanded furiously, "What have you got to explain for yourself England aru? Using firecrackers on top of that!"

"Give him a break China." Hong Kong sighed. "I teased him a bit too much and he felt like getting some revenge. There's nothing else to it."

China narrowed his eyes dangerously at Hong Kong. "I see aru," He muttered before turning his attention back to England. "But where did England get-"

"Don't be so harsh on him China, it's not his fault." Taiwan cut China off. She admitted guiltily, "I encouraged this kind of behaviour. I told England to get back at Hong Kong for all the teasing."

Hong Kong looked at Taiwan in surprise, as if he could not believe his ears. Taiwan smiled at him apologetically, but quickly returned to looking at her feet. But China still seemed not to calm down. He burst out at England angrily.

"That still isn't excusable for what you just did England aru! I can't even-"

"But China, it isn't his fault." Taiwan protested weakly, cutting China off again.

China turned to glare at Taiwan sternly and said lowly, "It isn't entirely his fault Taiwan but England has to understand that this is not okay! What he did was extremely dangerous and either he or Hong Kong could have been hurt."

He turned his attention back at England again. "Don't you understand England?" China asked. "Had Hong Kong not pushed you and himself out of the way, the amount of firecrackers could have badly burned you aru. Perhaps even lose an eye or a hand! Do you realise how lucky you are that neither of you were hurt?"

England finally looked up, his eyes wide with shock and horror. "I... h-hurt someone?" He stuttered faintly. England started shaking his head, "D-didn't want to hurt any-anyone, I... I d-didn't know..." He trailed off as tears began rolling down his cheeks. The tears washed away the soot on England's cheeks, leaving trails behind.

China sighed tiredly and ran a tired hand through his long untied hair, "This can't go on... it has become only too clear that neither of you can get along under one roof. Something has to be done..."

"What are you suggesting?" Hong Kong asked rather sourly, "Do you want me to _leave_?" Hong Kong put heavy emphasis on the word "leave". China immediately caught the hidden meaning in Hong Kong's question and his eyes narrowed.

"No," China answered quietly, "I'm bringing England back to Japan aru. I don't like doing this but it is evident that if you two continue "teasing" each other, I will soon have no home left."

"You've got more than enough houses in the world." Hong Kong muttered under his breath.

China sighed again and said, "I will have to call Japan now. Taiwan," Taiwan looked up as her name was called. "Can you please get England cleaned up? He's completely covered in soot." China asked before turning to Hong Kong, "And you... we'll talk later and you will explain to me how you came in possession of so many firecrackers since I'm sure England found them in your room."

He then walked away, muttering under his breath. Taiwan let out a breath and picked England up. She looked over to Hong Kong.

The ex-colony just shrugged and smiled, "That's the way life goes." He then looked England. England returned the gaze evenly while wiping his tears away, not sure how Hong Kong would react to him now.

After a moment Hong Kong broke into a small smile and reached to ruffle England's hair. "I have to admit England, you know how to plan your revenges." He then turned around and walked off.

England sneezed as something tickled his nose. Taiwan looked down and laughed heartily, "Aww, he got more soot into your hair. Guess he always needs to have the last say."

The little nation shook his head to get the soot out and pouted. He sighed sadly and rested his head against Taiwan's chest.

* * *

England shivered as Taiwan poured more warm water on his head. They were both in the bathroom, England being specifically in the bath tub. With the amount of soot that England had on him, Taiwan had decided that nothing else but a bath would be able to wash it off.

The little nation winced slightly as Taiwan attempted to scrub out the soot from England's hair. The extra amount Hong Kong had added certainly didn't make the job easier.

Both were silent for a while, lost deep in their thoughts.

Finally England decided to break the silence with the question that was the most on his mind.

He looked up to Taiwan and asked, "T-taiwan, do y-you think China hates m-me?"

Taiwan looked taken aback by the sudden question. She quickly answered, "No, why do you think that?"

"He l-looked really an-angry." England mumbled, looking away.

He heard Taiwan let out a small laugh. "Just because he was angry doesn't mean he hates you."

"But t-then why wa-was he so angry?" England asked confusedly.

Taiwan shrugged. "I guess he was worried."

"W-worried?" England asked, brows furrowing. "What d-does "worried" mean?"

The female nation looked at first surprised by the question but then she looked thoughtful. "Worry..." she explained, "It's a feeling that is similar to fear. You know what "fear" means, to be afraid?"

England nodded slowly. Taiwan continued, "Well, worry is something like fear but it's a fear to lose something special. We usually feel worried if someone close to us is in danger of being hurt."

"So C-China was afraid t-that Hong Kong would be h-hurt?"

"Yes, and you too of course. China is very protective by nature, especially of the younger nations." Taiwan said as she returned to washing the soot off England's body.

England wondered out loud, "H-how old a-am I?"

"Definitely younger than China and I think older than me. Hong Kong is younger than you too. I'm not too sure on the exact age though." Taiwan hummed softly as she poured more water down England's back.

"S-so China was angry b-because he w-was worried?" England asked cautiously.

"He probably wouldn't have forgiven himself if you had been hurt under his care." Taiwan stated calmly but then added, "But you really should stop feeling so bad about it. Heck, I think I feel worse than you do!"

"But w-why?"

Taiwan sighed heavily, "Because I was the one who encouraged you to do something. I told you about the "an eye for eye" code. Revenge. I shouldn't have done that."

She paused, taking England out of the water, finally satisfied that all the soot was gone. Taiwan continued, "You know, a friend of mine, she's called India, used to have this boss who probably was one of the best boss a nation could ever ask for."

"He...," Taiwan hesitated here, "freed India, fought for her independence. He was really wise and always believed that violence was not an answer. He even responded to the "an eye for an eye" code. He said, "An eye for an eye and the whole world is blind." You can't get any wiser than that."

England frowned as Taiwan started to towel his hair dry. "W-what does that m-mean?" he queried.

"It means that revenge leads you to nowhere, it's just a vicious cycle that goes on and on until there is no blood left to be spilled. Actually many people still don't know that and are still stuck in that violent cycle. Even us nations. The taste of revenge is still very potent to some of us."

The little nation saddened at that and murmured, "I-it's sad."

"Indeed it is, but nothing can be done really." Taiwan shrugged helplessly. She handed over some clean clothes to England.

Taiwan added as an after-thought, "I think the only way out of it is for more of us to break out of the cycle and put an end to all this revenge crap. But it might take some time before that miracle happens."

She leaned back and smiled. "There, you're all ready now."

* * *

During the journey to Japan's house both China and England travelled in an awkward silence. Though England had been reassured by Taiwan that China did not hate him, the little nation found himself hesitating around China.

As China was carrying him England would now and again look up and stare at China inquisitively. The normally talkative Asian nation was silent.

Oddly enough, China too seemed to be hesitant in breaking the silence even though it was clear he wanted to say something. Yet he wouldn't talk. England wondered quietly why. As they got closer to Japan's house, China's steps got slower and slower.

Finally he stopped and set England down. England looked up to him in surprise. China sighed heavily before carefully asking, "Are you okay aru?"

England blinked and nodded slowly. As support he added, "T-taiwan said y-you didn't h-hate me."

China frowned. "Why would you think I hate you aru?"

"Because you were angry with me." England answered, looking down at his feet.

The Asian nation shook his head and smiled. "That wouldn't be a valid reason to hate you. In the end no one got hurt. But still some of my stuff got destroyed." China shook his head at that, grumbling a little bit. Now he would have to replace some of the items that had been destroyed. And send the bills to Wales.

But there was still something that bothered England. There was something at the back of his mind that was tugging at him but England could not guess what it was.

He asked, "D-did I ever h-hurt someone? I m-mean in t-the past... did I h-hurt you?"

England saw China look away at the question and slowly started walking again. England trotted after China, wondering what he had said wrong. China looked deep in thought before he said uneasily, "You and your people have had a very harsh and violent history aru. You do come from Europe which has a very violent history. Many nations from that continent have had a very aggressive nature at some point in their history."

China suddenly brightened, "We're almost at Japan's house aru!" He quickened his pace and made his way to Japan's front door. England tried his best to keep up with China, though for a short second he narrowed his eyes as he realized that China hadn't exactly answered his question.

By the time England had reached China, the Chinese man had already knocked on the door and Japan was opening the door. England smiled widely, he was happy to see Japan again. He quickly walked over to Japan and hugged his legs happily.

England heard Japan chuckle softly and say, "Welcome back England." England felt happiness at these words.

After a moment he became aware that China and Japan were talking lowly. England craned his neck to catch a bit of the conversation and but could only make out China say, "... I'm really sorry about this Japan but Hong Kong and England really can't get along. I've already explained to you what happened..."

"Yes, yes..." Japan nodded slowly, looking down at England thoughtfully.

Not too comfortable with both nations talking about him as if he wasn't there, England walked into the house and left the two nations talking behind. Wondering what he could do, England brightened when a thought struck him. He could visit Japan's pretty blue bird!

England made his way to the room where he knew the bird's cage was. It was still in its old place, on the floor. England approached it eagerly and watched the blue bird in fascination.

The bird cheeped twice and ruffled its feathers. England really liked its blue feathers. The bird hopped around the cage and cheeped a couple more times. Then England noticed that the wooden splint on the bird's wing was gone. Had the wing healed? England looked closely at the bird.

"Ah, I see that you've already found that the bird's wing has healed, yes?"

England looked up and saw Japan at the doorway, smiling gently. The little nation nodded to show that he had seen it.

Japan noted, "I believe the bird is now well enough to be set free again. We'll set it free later in the afternoon, okay?"

"Ss-set free?" England asked perplexed, turning to look at the bird. Did it mean that the bird... would be gone? That England wouldn't be able to see it again and hear it sing?

"Yes, it is time for the bird to return to nature. I don't like keeping it in a cage." Japan replied and walked over to the cage. He lifted it up and went to set it outside already. England followed after the Asian nation, not liking the idea of losing the bird at all.

Why should it be set free? The bird was nice and safe in the cage while outside it could get hurt again. England couldn't comprehend why Japan was so willing to free such a frail little creature into a large and dangerous world. Why couldn't he keep the bird?

An odd feeling set in England's heart. He didn't want the bird to go. He preferred keeping the bird here, where it was. There's no harm in that. It wasn't wrong.

The bird didn't need to be free.

* * *

And there you have it! Now, before some of you go "why did we backtrack to Japan? D:" I want you all to be honest and tell me who forgot about the blue bird I introduced to you all a few chapters ago. I did promise that the bird had a reason to be there, a very symbolic reason. Some of you might even already suspect now what symbolism it represents, right? Come on: blue, flight, sky, cage, freedom...? Doesn't it ring a bell for you? Give a big pat on your shoulder yourself if it does. ^^

Now, maybe an apology to anyone who lives in Hong Kong, not sure if I have readers from there but just in case... some of you might be questioning what I actually meant when Hong Kong emphasized "leave" when talking to China. Fact is, I do think Hong Kong really cares for China, however I do think Hong Kong does not approve of the current government that China has. Where'd I get this idea, you ask? From my mother's own experience I guess. She visited Hong Kong a few years before it was returned to China and she wasn't even in Hong Kong for two days when she met a Chinese man who invited her for tea at a tea house. Once they had gotten their tea, the man quickly came to the point about why he wanted to talk to my mother. He was wondering if he could marry her so that he would get my mother's nationality (swiss nationality btw) and a swiss passport and then once he got that, he would divorce from her and return to Hong Kong to get his wife (yep, he was already married) and remarry her so that they both would be able to leave Hong Kong to go live somewhere else with their swiss nationality. Now, my mother was barely over 25 years old and the idea of marriage didn't really attract her too much and she politely declined. The man took the rejection pretty well and accepted her choice. Before he left my mother did ask out of curiousity why he wanted so badly to leave Hong Kong and he responded that he wasn't the only one and that others like him were searching for a way to get out of Hong Kong before it became part of China again. He quickly added that it wasn't that he didn't like China, but he really couldn't imagine living under the rule of the government that China has. He said he preffered having Hong Kong remain a colony or become independant but since neither were really an option, the man wanted to get out of Hong Kong with his wife. My mother never saw or heard of this man after that, so I really hope that whether or not the man was successful, that he and his wife are still okay today. It's due to this that I decided to add this tidbit into the story, seeing as how Hong Kong still today isn't as restricted as the rest of China.

And, that quote that Taiwan mentioned is real, Gandhi said this. I don't know why but that quote really has a lot of effect on me. Maybe because I am by nature a vengeful person and I'm really trying to break out of this vicious cycle. Revenge is an interesting topic seeing as it is still going strong today and is one of the main reasons for conflict among many people. It saddens me sometimes though, I really wish someone could simply let it go and break the cycle.

England's reaction to the realization he could have hurt someone...? : Our definition of child-like cruelty is very often linked to children pulling the wings off of flies or butterflies and being generally ignorant about the pain they are inflicting on others. (a 5 year old boy stabbed his 10 year old sister in the stomach with a kitchen knife to get his gameboy back and calmly explained to the police that he saw it happen on the TV and that it worked. that happened about a year ago in France.) I think when you do tell a child that what they did hurts a lot, you are often met with confusion and disbelief. I once took care of a little girl who liked catching ants and cutting their various body parts off and I scolded her for putting her "victims" in so much pain. She looked shocked by that and told me ants don't feel pain and I told her that anything that moves generally DOES feel pain. I'm not sure if she learnt her lesson but on that particular afternoon she became really quiet and stopped torturing ants. I do think that children don't have the ability to put themselves "in the shoes of the other" and so they can't relate to the feelings of the other. So it was important for England to make this breakthrough, to realize that he could have hurt someone badly with his revenge.

Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and hopefully some of you caught the foreshadowing when China managed to evade England's question. This will not end well. X_X Anyway, look forward to the next chapter, it will be the last one with Japan! After that we will move away from Asia and go towards other nations! :D


	22. Chapter 22

And here I bring to you the newest chapter of this story a week earlier! (again!) 8D I'll try to get the next one up next week because I really want to use these holidays to the best of my advantage, despite all the homeworks and exams I have to work on. (you shall not win the war school!) Life is being okay with me despite having a nightmare yesterday that was so bad that when I woke up I burst into tears and breathed deeply for several minutes before I calmed myself down. But I recovered from it now so everything is good. ^^

Anyway, this is the last chapter with Japan and the other Asian countries and I'll be finally moving England to another continent. (no, not America yet) So hope you enjoy this chapter, I'm not too sure whether this chapter is interesting or not. Tell me!

* * *

Chapter 22

Later that afternoon England waited for his chance to stop Japan from committing a very big mistake: letting the bird leave.

England waited patiently until a perfect opportunity presented itself. As if fortune was on his side, the phone rang and Japan went to answer it. The little nation didn't hesitate and he quickly went outside to the porch where the cage was.

The bird in the cage was ruffling its feathers, chirping cheerfully. England really liked listening to it, the music it made was so beautiful. Japan couldn't let the bird go, it was too beautiful. Out there in the wild the bird could get hurt or much worse, killed.

Though the cage was a bit larger than England, the island nation managed to grasp the bars and drag the cage with him. The bird chirped in alarm at the sudden movement of the cage, flapping its wings in discontent. England shushed it softly, afraid that Japan might hear it.

The cage was dragged inside and England paused uncertainly. Where should he hide the bird? He didn't really know any good hiding places to be honest. But he had to hurry, Japan wouldn't stay on the phone forever.

England decided to drag it into his room for the time being, he would think of a better place later. He struggled slightly with the cage but he eventually managed to get the bird to his room. England pushed the cage into a corner and covered it with a blanket. Hopefully the bird would stay quiet and remain undetected by the Japanese nation.

Hearing footsteps down the hall, he quickly rushed back to the living room just in time for Japan to come back. Japan didn't give any indication of knowing that England had even left the room in his absence. The Asian nation looked at England and smiled, "Shall we free the bird?"

Averting his eyes uncomfortably, England nodded a little. Japan seemed surprised by the little nation's reaction but he shrugged and proceeded to go outside. England followed the other nation nervously, not knowing how Japan would react to the disappearance of the bird.

Well, the first reaction was utter surprise. Japan was convinced he had placed the cage outside a few hours ago and now it was gone. Japan was completely perplexed by this.

"Where did the cage go? Where is the bird?" Japan muttered to himself, looking around, his eyes scanning its surroundings sharply. Then his eyes fell on England. The little nation shifted uneasily and still refused to make eye contact with Japan. Why was England acting so oddly?

"England, do you know where the bird is?" Japan asked carefully, keeping a watchful eye on England's reaction to the question.

England froze at the question and seemed reluctant to answer. Japan became even more suspicious. Suddenly both nations heard faint cheeping.

Japan turned his head to the sound. It came from within the house. Wait a moment...

"England, what..." Japan began asking but when he turned to face England he caught a glimpse of the smaller nation fleeing into the house. Ah, so England did have something to do with the disappearance of the bird.

The Asian nation stood up and walked into the house, searching for England and the bird. He had only to look for him briefly before he found England in his own room.

England had backed into the corner, staring at Japan warily. Behind him Japan could see the cage which was partly covered by a blanket. Japan wondered why England had hidden the bird. The action confused Japan.

Right now the little nation seemed afraid, he was staring at Japan as if expecting the other to burst out in anger. But why?

Japan sighed and approached England slowly. The other tensed fearfully. Japan stopped in front of England and sat down on his knees, stared at him quietly.

They remained in this awkward silence for a while. Slowly England began to relax, seeing that Japan was not going to yell at him.

"So..." Japan took a deep breath. "Why are you hiding the bird?"

England looked down to his feet and hesitantly mumbled, "I d-don't want the bird t-to go."

The Asian nation blinked in surprise and astonishment. "Why not?"

"Then the bird iz g-gone..." England was searching for a word and he frowned in frustration when he couldn't find it.

"Forever?" Japan proposed helpfully, looking at England.

The little nation nodded, "Yes, f-forever."

Japan sighed and said in a serious tone, "England, it is natural that the bird will never return. It doesn't belong to me or to you. It belongs free."

"B-but free m-means danger!" England protested loudly. "I... I want the bird to stay. Its p-pretty. I l-like it."

"I know the bird will not be safe anymore outside. And I can understand why you want the bird to stay. But would **you** want to be kept in a cage?" Japan asked calmly, staring at England neutrally.

England started. "Me? In... a cage?" The thought had apparently never occurred to the little nation. He seemed to think it over, frowning at the thought.

After a moment England shook his head slowly.

"So, do you think the bird likes to stay in the cage?" Japan questioned.

"But bird seems h-happy." England answered uncertainly, looking behind him at the cage.

Japan cocked his head to one side and asked, "Really? How do you know? Do you understand the bird?"

England shook his head again, looking miserable. "But I w-want bird to stay..." Tears began forming at the corner of his eyes.

The Asian nation sighed and leaned forward to wipe England's tears away gently. "I know but England, if you don't want to be in a cage then why does the bird have to? You're both living creatures and have the right to be free. If you could choose, would you rather stay free or be put in a cage?"

"Free." England replied without hesitation.

"Then don't you think the bird would also wish to be free?" Japan lifted England's chin up so that his green eyes were staring into Japan's eye.

England reluctantly nodded after a few moments and looked at the cage behind him sadly. Japan smiled, relieved to have gotten through to England. Though the incident was harmless enough it had still worried Japan to see the first signs of possessiveness in England. Had England, as a young nation, developed this need to own because he had nothing at first? But he had also seemed genuinely worried about the bird's welfare.

So England's possessiveness was built on that? The need to own and the need to protect? A dangerous mixture... but if Japan could spot the signs quickly enough he might be able to remove this undesirable trait. The modern England hadn't been so bad but in his empire era Japan had heard various tales on how aggressively possessive England had been. It was better to discourage it now before it could make a return.

"Japan?"

Japan broke out of his thoughts, surprised at himself for having sunk himself into his own thoughts. He looked at England who was staring at him oddly. The small nation had removed the blanket from the cage and had pushed it towards Japan. The bird hopped around the cage, ruffling its feathers again.

"We free the bird n-now?" England asked curiously.

The Asian nation nodded and stood up, picking up the cage. The bird chirped, finally breaking its long silence throughout the nations' conversation. Japan walked with cage outside on the porch, England following him closely.

When they were outside Japan put the cage down and opened it. He put his hand inside and gently took the bird out. The bird gave an annoyed cheep, impatient to be free again. Japan went on one knee and showed the bird to England.

"Time to say farewell to the bird." Japan smiled at England.

England stared at the bird sorrowfully but then said resolutely, "Good b-bye bird and be s-safe."

Japan nodded and opened his hand. With a flap of wings, the bird took off and was flying away from the nations. Both nations stared at it quietly as the bird flew higher towards the sky. It was soon out of sight and England sighed sadly.

Then he looked at Japan worriedly and asked, "Are you a-angry Japan?"

Japan was surprised by the question. "No, why?"

"C-china would h-have been angry." England mumbled, looking to the sky again.

"But I'm not China." Japan laughed lightly but then grew serious. "But I would have been disappointed if you had tried to keep the bird. It's not good to be possessive."

"P-possessive?" England looked surprised by that word. He suddenly nodded. "I h-heard that word before."

"Really?" Japan was astonished, was England starting to remember the more complicated words? "Where from?"

England looked thoughtful and replied, "I heard it in m-my dream." Then realization hit him when England finally understood what it meant to be possessive.

* * *

_When he found himself in what was quickly becoming a familiar darkness again, England was not surprised so see a personality of his was already there. He approached the personality carefully to check which one it could be, though he did have an inkling of a suspicion about who it might be._

_Once he was close enough to see the eyes, England managed to recognize who stood in front of him. He still asked to confirm, "Are you Possessive England?" _

_The personality cocked his head to one side and then silently nodded. England noticed the strange light in Possessive England's eyes and was somehow comforted that he now knew what that light signified. Of course he didn't appreciate that feeling of possessiveness one bit. _

"_Well, I suppose I know now what it feels like to be possessive." England sighed as he sat down. _

_His personality followed suit and then shrugged, "If I didn't exist, you wouldn't have ever felt possessive. You can't really have a personality that does not have an effect on you, however small and insignificant they may be."_

_Another voice came from the dark void, "Thank goodness at least that you're just the extreme version of me." Another personality morphed out of the darkness and sat beside Possessive England. England stared at it closely, somehow this personality seemed familiar to him though he didn't know what personality it was exactly. _

_As if reading his mind the unknown personality answered his silent question with a smile, "I'm your protective personality, therefore a calmer version of your possessive personality."_

"_You were the one who fought the dark voice last time I saw you, right?" England asked slowly, looking Protective England over for any signs of damage he might have sustained from the fight._

"_That bastard had it coming to him, how dare he try and suggest that you were better off dead?" Protective England scowled, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. _

"_You weren't hurt by it at least, were you?" England looked uncertainly at Protective England, unable to find any sign that the personality was injured. Aforementioned personality blinked and burst out laughing._

"_Not a scratch England, the dark voice can't physically hurt me nor you like that. I just struggled a little bit to get out of that bastard's grasp and I was fine again. The dagger wasn't real, how is the dark voice supposed to have had access to a real dagger?"_

_England shrugged at the question, not knowing how to answer it. He was relieved at least to see that his personality hadn't been hurt with his fight against the dark voice._

_Suddenly another voice spoke up from the darkness. "Oi, can you all stop being so serious and loosen up a bit? Why are you all always so serious?" _

_When another personality jumped out of the darkness in front of them, both Protective and Possessive England sighed simultaneously and rolled their eyes. The new arrival seemed younger than either personalities and was grinning mischievously._

_The personality let out an amused chuckle and walked closer to England. England stared up at the new personality but he couldn't see any danger in this personality. He just seemed to be his…_

"_I'm your mischievous personality!" The personality declared proudly and ruffled England's hair. "And that was an excellent revenge, wasn't it?"_

"_You're not known as the Prankster among us for nothing you know." Possessive England sighed and inched closer to England. Instinctively England shied back, he could only imagine that his possessive personality didn't like seeing England so close to another personality._

"_And the revenge was absolutely dangerous and not thought through well enough." Protective England sniffed disdainfully, frowning at the mischievous personality._

_Mischievous England laughed and pointed out teasingly, "I thought the trait of nagging belonged to Nagging England. Or at least an extreme version of Motherly England. At least I didn't associate nagging with you."_

"_You know we're interchangeable and we easily assume traits of other personalities. Anyway, your combination with Angry England was less than desirable. Did you see what kind of destruction you wrought?" Protective England pointed out, still unhappy with the younger personality._

"_At least it was me and not Vengeful England. That could have ended really ugly then." Mischievous England laughed loudly and sat down beside England._

"_Vengeful England only fully combines with Sadistic England who has not returned yet and even then, Vengeful England is too fragmented to have an effect overall." Possessive England pointed out disgruntledly._

"_I'm getting confused with all of you…" England admitted, shaking his head in an effort to clear the confusion from his head. All three personalities turned their attention to England and all smiled sympathetically, although Mischievous England's smile leaned more towards the sly typw._

"_Under normal circumstances we shouldn't even be separated entities and you shouldn't be able to see us. There are many of us, we can easily go into the thousands." Protective England explained kindly._

"_How many of you have returned anyway?" England asked curiously, looking at the three personalities. _

_They looked at each other blankly and Mischievous England shrugged, "Depends on what "returned" really means to you. Some have returned fully while others are also back but are too fragmented to be really present."_

_Possessive England smirked slightly and nodded behind him, "For example there is a fully recovered personality who is close by right now but he is hiding from us."_

_Protective England turned his head around and called out, "Come out Timid England, no need to hide from us and England." _

_Mischievous England added teasingly, "Come on out scaredy-cat!"_

_There was some shuffling in the darkness before the new personality morphed out of the darkness. He scolded in a very shy voice, "Don't call me that, I'm not a scaredy-cat."_

_England watched the new arrival in interest, the personality appeared a bit older than all the three other personalities and he was constantly fiddling with his fingers. His eyes were downcast and he appeared very apprehensive, obviously proving to England that he was his timid personality._

_Mischievous England laughed, "Timid England is really an oddball among us, he's pretty quiet but he can appear out of nowhere without a warning. Combine him with your embarrassed personality and your defensive personality and you get a quite confusing ball of emotions from that mixture."_

"_I'm not to blame for that, I do represent England's shy and timid feelings after all." Timid England mumbled defensively, shifting from one foot to another uncertainly._

"_Which is strange because you completely disappeared for a long phase, having been replaced by more outgoing and stronger personalities." Possessive England added, seeming to become a bit proud when he mentioned "stronger personalities". _

_Timid England opened his mouth to retaliate but then closed his mouth, sighing softly. England did find it a bit strange to watch such a soft-spoken aspect of him, somehow it didn't feel very natural to England. He was starting to get even more bewildered by the personalities the others would mention, having a feeling he should know them and yet at the same time they sounded like strangers to him. _

"_Anyway, I just wanted to tell you guys that Kind England has almost come back, he's just missing a few traits but he should be completely restored soon." Timid England finally said, looking at the surrounding personalities with serious eyes. Both Protective and Possessive England smiled at the news with happiness but Mischievous England sighed and rolled his eyes._

"_Where are the interesting personalities, those that are actually fun to hang out with? Not that you guys aren't cool but you're all too uptight and "work-before-fun" type of personalities to me." _

"_We're the personalities that make England a stable and healthy person. So you better stay silent when criticizing our nature when yours isn't better." Protective England pointed out indignantly._

_Mischievous England stared at the protective personality blankly before bursting out into laughter. He then stuck out his tongue cheekily and disappeared into the dark. Timid England rolled his eyes and muttered, "I can't believe how childish he can be sometimes."_

_England shook his head, wondering when the concept of personalities would stop sounding so strange to him. He liked listening to them, they were really interesting but they were also a bit confusing. He started when he started sinking into the darkness._

"_Ah, you're getting a new memory." Protective England turned to look at England, his eyes worried, "I hope you will be alright."_

_England shrugged helplessly, "I can just hope it isn't another battle…"_

_Timid England smiled sadly, "At least keep in mind that every memory you get, another one of us comes back. These memories are helping you to return to yourself."_

"_I hope so." England replied doubtfully, losing the personalities from sight as he was plunged into a new memory._

* * *

Yup, another insight on England's personalities! ^^ If they appear a bit odd to you, it's because they're concentrated forms of traits that England has. Usually those traits are mixed to show a more balanced character, however here we see the raw personalities that build up England's character. This is only possible because right now England's memories are fragmented, therefore only revealing a few personalities at the time and these are fragmented too. Normally they should merge but that won't happen for a while. Did you also notice that I just described the rough ingredients that make up England's tsundereness? I said roughly so of course I might have missed out a few other personalities. There will be a last chance for England's personalities to make an appearance in this story before they fully merge. I apologise if they're confusing. ...I wouldn't be wrong if I assumed that some of you might want to see Pirate England later on, right? Yeah, he can be considered as a personality too.

I also hope I dealt with the issue of the blue bird well enough, didn't I? With this, England learns the lesson of not to do something to someone if he himslef doesn't want to receive the same treatment. Many of you caught the symbolism, congratulations! ^^ You've made a blue bird in the sky a very happy bird. England is of course a little bit sad but he now understands the concept of possessiveness and hopefully that should encourage him to steer clear from his empire phase. However what effect will it have on England when he learns from his past memories just how possessive he used to be? Hmm, I sense another internal conflict here.

Oh, here is a little hint to what the next chapter will have: Japan will leave the stage, there will be a World Meeting, reintroducing a few characters, England will rediscover magic and there will be a weird but symbolic transformation. Sounds intersting? Hang around then to see what happens next! 8D (god, I sound like one of those annoying salesperson or something of the sort. =_=)

HAPPY EASTER HOLIDAYS EVERYONE! (before I forget) Didn't get any chocolate bunnies or eggs this year! D: But I still made tiramisu today so I'm happy! =^.^=


	23. Chapter 23

And here we have the newest chapter! :D I actually like this chapter, it has to be one of my favourite ones just because so much happens in this chapter. ^^ I can't promise the next chapter will be up in a weeks time because school starts again tomorrow and I have three exams in that week alone to kick things off. History, Laboratory Biology and Philosophy... ugh, I really don't wanna study! X_x I'll have to though... ah well, aside from that I also have my final exams coming too close for comfort. Trying all my best NOT to freak out. Hmph, at least this story serves of a stress-reliever, however I don't know how much my stress will affect the quality of the chapters.

I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! :D

* * *

Chapter 23

A couple of days had passed and soon the World Meeting was upon the nations once again. Japan brought England with him, assuming that it was time for England to be passed on to another nation.

England had made a lot of progress in speaking, writing and reading and Japan was able to understand him better. England had also finally lost his stuttering and said the words with more ease. He still suffered from nightmares and more scars had appeared on his body. But England seemed to accept these nightmares as something inevitable.

He was naturally very curious to where Japan was bringing him. Though England had barely grown and was still the size of a little child, he often insisted on walking instead of being carried. When Japan asked why England explained that he wanted to become more independent and care for himself.

But the little nation didn't understand the concept of nation-hopping, the way a lot of nations travelled from country to country if they didn't feel like taking the train or airplane. It wouldn't be a good idea for England to try it and so Japan insisted on carrying him during the travelling.

Once they arrived in front of the building where the meeting was going to be held Japan set England down. England was looking around him curiously, a lot more attentive to his surroundings now than before.

When they entered the building the first nation they met was Canada.

Canada greeted them happily, "Hello Japan. And hello England."

To the Canadian's great surprise England smiled and greeted back. "Hello Canada, it's nice to see you again." Japan chuckled in amusement at Canada's expression.

"Wow," Canada breathed, "How much has England regained?" He looked at Japan.

"England-san is able to speak without difficulty and has also regained a lot of his reading and writing skills. Now and again there are some concepts he struggles to understand but overall England is making a good progress." Japan replied, looking down at England. England looked away, these nations were talking again as if he wasn't there and England didn't like it.

While the two nations talked, England took the chance to look around. There were many nations, some he recognized from America's party. England even spotted America from afar but the American didn't see him and went where the meeting was being held.

England tugged on Japan's trouser, attracting the attention of the two taller nations.

"What is it England?" Japan asked confusedly.

"We're going in there?" England pointed to the room in which America had disappeared.

"Ah yes, the meeting. I almost forgot!" Canada smiled sheepishly and without further ado all three nations made their way to the meeting.

It took a few more minutes until all nations were seated and settled down for the meeting. Annoyed as usual by the delay, Germany started the meeting as soon as he had everyone's attention. Which wasn't very easy as every now and again some nations would cast a glance towards Japan to get a peek at England. England was seated on Japan's laps and looked around curiously, listening to the various nations speak.

Though he now could more or less understand the nations, England wasn't really able to comprehend what the meeting was about. Many nations used words that England was unfamiliar with and so he quickly found himself getting restless, wanting to do something.

He turned around and quietly whispered to Japan the permission to get down and walk about. After careful consideration Japan nodded and set England down and wordlessly returned his attention to the meeting.

Now that he was free, England ducked under the table. He didn't really know what he was supposed to do for the rest of the meeting but he then thought of maybe looking for Canada or even America.

But what became quickly apparent under the table was with the sea of legs, there was no way England could recognize a single nation from among them. Still, England was small enough to walk under the table and he had nothing else to do. England started walking, taking care of not going too close to the legs and to disturb anyone. It felt like being in a different world.

And the table was really big. England had no idea how many nations there were but he was sure there were many.

After a while England became aware that one of the nations was trying to attract his attention.

"Psst. Hey kid, come over here." Somebody was hissing, looking under the table directly at the little nation. England curiously approached the nation, not being able to recognize the nation.

The nation grinned goofily and he excitedly whispered, "D'you recognize me?"

England stared at the nation hard. He had blue eyes and blonde hair. As much as he looked through his recently acquired memory, England could find no match to this nation. Though that nation seemed quite familiar... England shook his head slowly.

"Aw man..." the nation seemed saddened by the answer but quickly perked up. "Guess you need more time to remember, huh? I'm Denmark, maybe that should ring a bell."

Before England could answer another nation beside Denmark moodily hit him on the head.

"Ouch, that hurt Norway!" Denmark complained in a low voice, looking at the other nation. England stared at Norway curiously, trying to remember something of him. Nothing came to mind.

"Pay attention to the meeting you pinhead!" Norway snapped quietly, coldly glaring at Denmark before returning his attention to the meeting.

Denmark pouted and stared at England sadly. "Well, what're you going to do for the rest of the meeting?" Denmark mumbled, looking at England thoughtfully.

He suddenly grinned and fished for something in the pocket of his trousers. He took out a piece of chalk and handed it to England.

"Here, now you can draw to pass the time and it can always be rubbed off." Denmark was satisfied with his ingenuity while England silently wondered why the nation even had chalk in his pocket.

England nodded his thanks smiling and Denmark's face disappeared from under the table as he reluctantly returned his attention to the meeting. England walked to the middle of the table and sat down, staring at the chalk. What could he do with it?

Suddenly a thought struck him. Or, more correctly, a memory. A memory in which his old self was drawing on the ground some strange symbols and mumbling words he didn't recognize.

The little nation stared at his chalk curiously. The symbols from the memory stood out so vividly in his mind that England wondered if he should try to draw them on the carpet floor. As Denmark had said, the chalk could always be rubbed off easily. So there was no harm in drawing.

Following what his old self did in his memory, England stood up and went to one end of the table.

He crouched on the ground and started drawing lines, now and again adding symbols. And it did take him a while to draw the way he could remember from his memory. England didn't fully understand the concept of time so he didn't know how long he spent drawing with his chalk. Maybe long enough, but definitely not long enough for the meeting to be finished.

England leaned back and admired his handiwork. He had drawn a large circle under the table, some of the lines being stepped on by the nations who were shifting their feet. Within the circle was a large star and within the large star was another circle. And along both circles and star there were multiple symbols and words that England had never before seen in his recent memories.

To think that his mysterious old self knew so many unfamiliar signs! England was impressed with his old self. He then also remembered that his old self had muttered in a strange language that he himself could no longer understand. What were the meanings behind those words?

Having no more difficulty saying the words that appeared in his mind, England gave these odd words a try. Of course in a whisper, Japan had taught him to be polite and not to interrupt or bother the others.

"Chan 'r asgre chan 'r briddo..." England whispered quietly. He held back a giggle at the words, they sounded funny to his ears. But apparently his old self said those words seriously and carefully, as if expecting something.

England decided to continue, "Ag 'r hud a hidla 'n danddaearol... Alwa llwybreiddia 'r da hud a ewyllysia chyfnertha 'm i mewn 'm dasgu. Anrhega 'm 'r allu at chyfnewid 'm llunia i mewn i cath a hunrhywun a chisiau 'r amgarn ewyllysia chordda i mewn i cath cystal."

The Brit paused briefly, feeling a tingle crawling down his spine. Should he proceed with saying these words? Why not...

"Ag 'r anian chan cath a 'i dafodiaith acha 'm balog , drawsffurfio 'm llunia a hynny caea ata-" England murmured softly, the tingle in his spine growing stronger.

"Alright," Germany's voice sounded faintly overhead, "I think it is time now for the lunch break and then we will continue-"

Driven by a sudden impulse, England called the rest of the words out. "-a gollwng 'n gwyllt brydiau!"

And suddenly there was a huge bang and the room was covered in smoke...

* * *

When the bang sounded several nations cried in panic and fear and soon everyone was scrambling out of their chairs. Many were loudly demanding what was going on.

As soon as the cloud of dust began to settle, the nations looked around to see what had happened. The sight they beheld rendered some of the nations completely speechless.

Suddenly Switzerland demanded loudly, "What is the meaning of this?"

To say the very least, not every nation was on their feet.

Some of them were on four feet.

Had two straight ears pointing upward on their heads.

A tail.

Whiskers...

The nations who still looked like humans stared at the other nations in dumb silence. Without any apparent reason some nations had turned into cats. The cat nations stared around them confusedly, as if trying to figure out what the hell had happened.

Canada looked around for America or Germany, hoping that one of them would take charge of the situation and calm the others down. But he couldn't find either.

"Hey, what happened?" A small voice piped up. Sealand had opened the door, trying to see what the bang had been about.

Greece quickly called out, "Little boy, close the door quick! Before any-"

"I'm not a boy, I'm the great Sealand!" The micro-nation declared in an offended tone, opening the door wider. The cat nations all perked their ears up as they saw the door wide open.

From outside dozens more cats poured in, made curious by the smell of the cat nations. Sealand looked down in surprise as the cats wove among his legs into the meeting.

The cat nations moved to meet the other cats and before long it seemed like a meeting had formed itself between the cats, the creatures meowing and purring among each other.

"...Too late." Greece sighed. One would question how Greece even managed to attract so many cats and that they followed him everywhere they could. Naturally they weren't allowed in the meeting so Greece would have to leave them out of the room and usually they just spent their time napping.

However with the cat nations, Greece's cats were interested in the newcomers who smelled like cats and yet had an air of difference to them. The result: both cat nations and cats were mixed and the remaining human nations were not able to identify which of the cats were nations.

"So, what do we do now?" Belgium asked quietly, looking at all the cats in confusion.

"First, we have to find out who was turned into a cat." Canada said firmly, for once gaining attention from all the remaining nations. Not that there were many but Canada still felt happy to finally have everyone's attention for once. "I guess... I can be sure that America was turned into a cat. I can't see him anywhere."

"I can't see Austria either." Hungary noted worriedly, scanning the throng of cats to spot the Austrian.

"And Russia, like, totally disappeared too! That's like totally cool, isn't it Liet!" Poland exclaimed, looking extremely happy at the Russian's fate.

Lithuania corrected nervously, "He just turned into a cat, I don't know if that's better now that he has claws. I also notice that Japan and China aren't here."

"And the Italies!" Spain pointed out excitedly. "Are they now cute kitties?"

"Germany and France are also gone." Greece said calmly.

"Come on, we could go on forever!" Switzerland complained in a frustrated tone. "Could anyone explain to everyone why did half of the nations turn into cats?"

A silence fell over them. No one could really find a plausible explanation. Then Wales, as replacement for the UK, asked suspiciously, "Can anyone see England?"

Many nations looked around, but there was no sign of the little nation. Wales sighed tiredly and muttered darkly, "So he's one of the cats? Alright, that means he had something to do with it."

"What do you mean Wales?" Canada asked curiously, not understanding Wales' annoyance.

"Hey, why are there chalk lines under the table?" Sealand called out, looking under the table.

Some nations looked under the table and noticed the strange chalk lines that seemed to make symbols. Wales looked under as well and cursed loudly.

"Who gave England chalk?" Wales demanded exasperatedly, looking at the nations. None ventured the information although Denmark inched to hide behind Norway. The Norwegian looked up at the tall Dane with a frown but remained silent.

Wales turned to Ireland and said tersely, "Well Ireland, that's also your area of expertise. Figure out what in the world England did to turn himself and others into cats."

Ireland sighed and scratched his head, "You can't still be angry at me for having taught Sasana how to use magic."

"You guys and your magic." Canada crossed his arms, looking at England's older brothers. "I won't be like America and say that magic is silly and unrealistic since I just saw this happen before my eyes, but how many of you can use magic?"

"Well, I discovered it at first!" Ireland grinned proudly, receiving a punch in the shoulder from Wales. "Ouch, alright Breatain Beag!" Ireland winced. "I learned it from the guy that was there before me and when Breatain Beag and Alba came along I taught them. Breatain Beag is good at it but hates using it while with Alba... well, no comment for him."

"Will you just get under the table and identify what spell he used?" Wales demanded impatiently.

"Sheesh, you're supposed to be the calm one of our bunch." Ireland complained but went under the table anyway.

"I will only be calm until I'm sure that the spell England has cast is not permanent. We don't need the most important nations of the world to spend the rest of their existence as cats." Wales said curtly.

"You mean... they might stay as cats forever?" Lithuania asked disbelievingly.

"Depending on the spell that England cast." Wales answered and with a sigh, sat on his chair.

"Is there something we can do while waiting?" Denmark questioned, looking restless.

Ireland responded from under the table, "Well, half of the nations have been turned into cats and we don't know how they look like. You might as well split them from the other cats so that we have all the cat nations together when I reverse this spell."

The nations stared at the bunch of cats around the room helplessly. "You do realize that there are a lot of them!" Spain protested, looking lost.

"I can help, I know some of my cats." Greece proposed.

Canada was struck by a sudden thought. "Do the cat nations think as cats or have they retained a part of their human mind?"

Wales shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps. I don't know how to check."

"But I do!" Canada said excitedly, he had a great idea. Which was a given for him.

"HAMBURGERS!" Canada uncharacteristically bellowed to the cats. Barely a second passed and from among the cats came an excited mrowling. A rather big cat jumped out and ran towards Canada, where he skidded to a stop at his feet and looked up expectantly.

Canada was so surprised by the reaction that he began chuckling. Some of the nations laughed and approached the cat curiously, trying to see if it was America.

The cream coloured cat had the same azure eyes as the American and had a funny kind of partial dark brown mane around his neck. After a few moments of waiting, wagging his tail like a dog, the cat finally cocked his head to one side. "Meow?"

"Is that you America?" Canada asked carefully.

"Meow!" The cat seemed to nod his head, his tail wagging furiously.

"Guess I found America, eh?" Canada smiled and petted America cat. The cat purred loudly.

This encouraged the other nations to do the same. "We should, like, totally be able to, like, find the other cat nations. Like, there's seriously a way of recognizing them, just look at America!" Poland said enthusiastically.

And so it was decided. While Greece and some others occupied themselves with extracting the non-nation cats and getting them out of the room, the rest went around and tried identifying the cat nations.

Spain crawled around some cats, making meowing sounds as he looked for two Italian looking cats. Suddenly from the crowd of cats one brown and cream cat jumped and landed on Spain's head.

"Miao!" The cat hissed angrily, sinking his claws into Spain's head.

Luckily for Spain's thick head, he felt no pain. He removed the moody cat from his head and stared at him blankly. The cat was lashing his tail furiously and Spain spotted the tell-tale curl from the right side of his head.

"Romano?" Spain asked incredulously, staring at the angry cat.

"Miao!" Romano cat yowled angrily, his green eyes flashing as if demanding an explanation.

Spain squealed and pulled the cat into a crushing hug, to which Romano cat started hissing and tried to pull himself free.

"Ve-Miao?" Another cat appeared, looking almost identical to Romano cat but his brown splotches were lighter. The cat also had a curl but it was attached to the left side of his head. He blinked his brown eyes curiously, staring at the fuming Romano cat.

"Aww, you're also very cute Veneciano!" Spain fawned over Veneciano cat and pulled him into a group hug. Romano cat spat angrily but stopped struggling, his ears laid flat against his head and lashing his tail angrily.

"Austria? Austria?" Hungary called out, looking around at the dwindling numbers of cats as the other nations removed the normal cats.

"Miau."

She turned around and saw a dark brown cat which had some white splotched on his face who sat rather majestically on a chair, looking at the Hungarian with an air of calmness.

Hungary approached the cat, staring into its purple eyes. "Is that you Austria?" She asked hopefully.

Austria cat flicked an ear and gave a sort of nod. Suddenly another cat jumped beside Austria cat, this one having a silver long coat and enchanting blue eyes. The cat looked seductively at Hungary and purred, "Miaou miaou..."

"Err, I guess that's you France." Hungary said uneasily, watching as France cat playfully batted Austria cat's ear. Austria cat looked at France cat in annoyance but then promptly looked away, ignoring the other cat.

A strange purple aura formed around France cat as he started viewing Austria with a very odd expression, an expression that caused Hungary to feel worried. France cat looked like he was just about to pounce on Austria cat and do things the Hungarian nation would rather not imagine.

Before France cat could even lay a paw on the other cat, Hungary quickly grabbed Austria cat and hauled him out of France cat's reach. The French cat let out a plaintive yowl of disappointment while Austria cat made an undignified huff of having been grabbed so rudely by Hungary. Hungary just watched France cat suspiciously, keeping a secure grip on Austria cat.

A dark blue cat walked up to Hungary to see what was going on. He stared from Austria cat to France cat and meowed in an authoritative tone. From his piercing blue eyes Hungary assumed that it was maybe Germany cat.

France cat purred and bumped his nose friendlily with Germany cat's nose. Germany cat laid his ears flat against his head as he jerked back from the other cat, letting out an annoyed meow. He lashed his tail a few times before he stalked off. France cat licked his paw carefully before he lay on his back and glanced at Hungary with charming eyes.

Hungary smirked knowingly, "You might be fluffy now France, but I'm still not falling for it. If I see you looking at Austria weirdly again, I swear you will feel the frying pan."

All France cat could do was stare in alarm at the Hungarian nation and let out a small innocent meow, jumping to his feet and running to hide under a chair.

Wales was also looking for any recognizable cat nations, specifically England. He really had to curse Ireland for teaching England magic, only trouble could be gained from it. A black cat with a white underbelly and a bobtail walked up to Wales and sat in front of the Welsh nation.

"Nya?" The cat meowed curiously, cocking his head to one side. Wales stared at the cat hard, trying to see if it was a nation. Those eyes looked familiar...

"Are you Japan?" Wales questioned the cat.

"Nya!" Japan cat meowed affirmatively, bowing his head.

"Can you try and find England? Ireland might need him for reversing the spell." Wales explained, hoping that Japan cat would understand him.

Japan cat nodded again and he trotted off in search of England. He was soon joined by America cat who excitedly meowed, "_Isn't it like totally cool being a cat?"_

"_I'd rather prefer to have my original shape back." _Japan cat replied, stopping to scratch his ear.

America cat mrowled, "_But we can do cool things now!"_

Suddenly two cats shot past the American and Japanese cat. One was black and had weirdly enough a ponytail attached to its scalp. The other was a large brown cat with poofy fur.

"_Myau, stay here China_!" Russia cat purred, trying to catch China cat.

"_Leave me alone already miao-aru!" _China cat yowled, quickly running towards some human nations to seek shelter from Russia cat.

China cat leaped into South Korea's arms to get away from the Russian cat. South Korea blinked in surprise as China cat clambered onto his shoulders and hissed at Russia cat. Russia cat sat at South Korea's feet and mrowled after China cat.

Suddenly a cat with a ribbon on her head appeared next to Russia cat. Russia cat looked at the new arrival in horror and fear and ran off as quickly as he could. Belarus cat ran after the Russian, chanting dementedly under her breath, "Marry me, marry me, marry me, marry me…"

"_Anyway," _America meowed as if nothing interesting had happened, "_Whatcha doing?"_

"_Wales asked me to find England." _Japan cat meowed back in reply and continued walking.

"_Oh, he's a cat too?" _America cat meowed in astonishment.

"_He's probably the reason why we were turned into cats." _Japan cat meowed, flicking an ear. They continued searching for England.

"_Hey Japan?" _America cat looked at the other feline. _"Why do you make that weird "nya" sound when you speak?"_

"_Isn't that the sound cats make?" _Japan cat asked in a surprised meow.

"_Nah, we meow! Not that "nya nya" stuff." _America cat answered with a mrowl.

"_I suppose the difference lies in our cultures. According to my people cats make a "nya" sound while for your people cats make a "meow" sound." _Japan cat explained.

"_That's weird..."_ America cat murmured thoughtfully. Then he brightly asked, _"So, how has England been doing while he stayed at your house? Is he okay?"_

"_He's..."_ Japan cat paused. _"He's been doing alright, he is recovering well. He did ask for you a couple of times again."_

"_Again?"_ America cat was astonished and looked a tad uneasy. _"But he is okay now, right?"_

"_I believe yes but I still do think it would have been nice if you had called in to check on him…" _Japan cat noted neutrally and both cats continued their search in silence.

After a few moments America cat broke the silence again. "_Actually Japan, how are we going to find England if he turned into a cat? Look at every cat's face to see if one of them has bushy eye-brows?" _America cat let out a purry laughter.

Japan cat stopped and looked around the room. He meowed, "_I'm looking for a British cat breed."_

"_Huh? Why?" _America cat asked quizzically.

"_Look at us America. We both are a breed of cat that originates from our own country." _Japan cat stared at America cat hard. "_I believe judging by your size and fur that you're a Maine Coon, which is an American breed. And I'm a Japanese Bobtail, which is obviously a Japanese breed."_

"_You did seem to be missing a tail." _America cat chuckled and then questioned, "_But since we're cats, we have a better nose now. Why don't we smell out England?"_

"_Do you know what England smells like?" _Japan cat asked incredulously.

America cat sat and raised himself on his hind paws. He took a deep breath of the air and then meowed excitedly, "_I smell Earl Grey tea!"_

"_You do?" _Japan cat sniffed the air.

"_That must be England, that guy has drank so much of it in the centuries that he literally reeks of tea." _America cat wagged his tail happily and started trotting in the general direction of where the smell came from.

Japan cat ran to catch up with the American cat and after a moment, he meowed. "_Interesting, you smell like hamburgers and fries."_

"_And you smell-"_ America cat paused and sniffed. _"-and you smell like salted salmon! Or something weird like that."_

They quickly found a kitten hiding in the corner of the room. There was another cat who was hissing at the kitten, ears laid flat against the head. The white kitten with light brown patches was cowering fearfully.

America cat's rage flared up and he launched himself at the other cat. _"Leave England alone!" _America cat spat.

The other cat hissed and ran off. It didn't seem to be a cat nation, just a normal cat. America cat turned to look at the kitten. He was still cowering and had his ears down. He had bushy eye-brows and vivid green eyes.

"_Hey England, everything's okay now." _America cat meowed happily.

England kitten stood up straighter but his ears stayed flat.

"_What's up with your ears?" _America cat asked curiously, pawing at them.

"_My... ears?" _The kitten felt with his paw his ears and frowned.

"_Don't worry England, your ears are normal." _Japan cat approached England kitten. America cat was about to protest when Japan cat explained. "_England is a Scottish Fold, their ears are like that. Except they're usually lower but England is a kitten so they're a bit higher."_

"_How come you know so much about cats?" _America cat looked at Japan cat in amazement.

"_Umm, Greece gets all the credit for that." _Japan cat blushed a little._ "He has many cats and he knows a lot about cat breeds."_

"_Ah, okay. Well, let's bring you back to Wales, huh?"_ America cat declared and with a wag of his tail he approached England kitten. He bit into the kitten's scruff, attempting to get a good hold on England kitten.

The kitten tried to turn his head around to stare at the American cat quizzically, _"What are you doing?"_

"_Duh, carrying you." _America answered with a mouthful of fur. He smiled when he finally had a good hold on the kitten and began to carry him.

England kitten protested loudly, _"I can walk by myself, you don't need to carry me!"_

Although America cat's response was muffled by England kitten's scruff, one could make out that he was replying, _"Well, you're just a little kitten so you might need protection from other cats. And I'm a hero!" _Well, the actual reason was that America wanted to try out how it was to carry a kitten by its scruff and England fit perfectly for that job. Oh, he was really going to get a laugh when England would be fully recovered and America would remind him how he managed to carry the Brit like a kitten. England would surely get annoyed but America always found England's reactions amusing, especially when he blushed.

America cat and Japan cat brought the kitten back to Wales. Wales thanked the cats and took the kitten. England kitten saw Wales' serious face and already felt like he had done something wrong.

"Meow?" England kitten tried asking what he did wrong but to Wales it only came out as a simple meow. However Wales heard the tone of the meow and somehow understood what England kitten was trying to ask.

"England, you cast a spell that turned you and some nations into cats. Why did you do that?" Wales asked sternly.

"Don't be so harsh on him Wales." Canada approached Wales and petted the kitten. "Do you think he even realized at the time that he was casting a spell? I think he might have just relied on his memories and didn't really understand what he was doing."

"But still, why does England even remember a spell that turns nations into cats? Not that I'm complaining much." Hungary asked, carrying Austria cat in her arms out of reach from France cat who was at her heels, looking up at Austria cat.

Some nations returned, almost all of them carrying a cat nation with them. All the non-nation cats had been finally removed from the room, leaving behind just the cat nations. Greece saw Japan cat and scratched him under his chin. Japan cat started in surprise but then began purring.

Finally Ireland came out from under the table, standing up and brushing away the chalk from his trousers.

"And?" Wales turned to Ireland.

Ireland grinned. "Yeah, I recognize the spell he used and its reversible. You should be proud of Sasana, he wrote the spell out in perfect Welsh. Hardly any mistakes."

"So?" Wales sighed irritably and asked. "Do you need England or not for the reversal spell?"

"Oh, yeah I need the original spell caster." Ireland agreed quickly.

"Just don't do anything stupid." Wales grumbled before he added, "Like that one time."

"Come on Breatain Beag, stop holding that over my head all the time!" Ireland whined.

"What did he do?" Spain asked curiously, holding both Italy cats in his arms.

Wales rolled his eyes and said, "Ever wonder why Atlantis sank to the bottom of the sea? Ireland's the culprit for that. And he taught us how to use magic."

Ireland's face reddened in embarrassment. "That was one time and I'm pretty sure it was another island. Not Atlantis."

"Would you just reverse the spell?" Wales demanded tiredly.

The Irishman grumbled under his breath and took England kitten from Wales. He took out the chalk England had originally used and drew a circle around him and England kitten.

He held the kitten in one hand away from him, staring the kitten squarely in the eyes. Ireland's face was serious and he closed his eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration.

The nations watched closely and curiously, all of them silent.

Ireland began chanting, "Drwo 'r 'n gysefin sillafa draiocht, Alwa i maes at 'r da hud at sullsiar hon sillafa a at adfer pawb at 'n hwy 'n gysefin llunia. 'r sillafa was 'n llwyddiannus a Ddiolcha 'r Ffair Bobl achos yn cael dean hon sillafa 'n bosib."

There was a loud bang and the room was filled with smoke again. Once it started to clear Canada called out, "Everyone that turned into a cat is back to normal?"

The nations that had been cats responded to Canada's enquiry in their original voices, with America exclaiming, "Alright Canada, you've had the spotlight for a while but now the hero is back!"

The Canadian sighed. America was back to normal and was already being demanding. Typical.

"See Breatain Beag, nothing went wrong this time!" Ireland grinned at Wales but the Welsh nation was not looking at him.

However Wales did mutter sarcastically, "Yeah, nothing went wrong my ass."

Wondering what had happened again, the nations turned to the British Isles to see what was going on.

Ireland also turned to stare dumbly at England. England looked more like himself now except he had cat ears and a tail. Seeing all the attention drawn on him, England felt his ears and noticed what had gone awry.

"Oh crap," Ireland cursed under his breath, "What did I say wrong this time?"

"If I'm not mistaken, I don't think my language has the word caster in respect to spells." Wales sighed.

"Don't worry then, I'll use another word!" Ireland said firmly, encouraging the small nation to stand up in front of him.

He chanted, "Alwa i maes at 'r da hud chan 'r briddo at adfer Albion's , 'r swyngyfareddwr s , llunia at 'i 'n gysefin ffurfia!"

A bang sounded again but this one wasn't as loud as the two previous one. The smoke cleared up a lot quicker and the nations leaned in to see if the spell had been a success.

The Irish nation groaned in frustration. "What have I said wrong now?"

England was on the floor, his cat ears and tail gone. However now... two pure white wings had appeared on England's back, between the shoulder blades. England blinked in confusion and stared behind him to observe his new appendages.

They lay limp, seemingly lifeless. England frowned and attempted to flex a wing. It responded to his order. Blinking in surprise England only managed a small, "Oh."

"Well congratulations Ireland, I had no idea that England's original form included wings." Wales said sarcastically.

"Shut it Cymru. It's your language's fault, it's impossible to cast spells correctly with it!" Ireland snapped irritably, extremely embarrassed.

"So..." America looked at England blankly. "England's going to have wings."

"No, no, I'll get it right this time." Ireland said hurriedly but was stopped by Wales.

"You've done enough. The spell you cast is temporary, the wings should fade away soon."

"Why don't you get rid of Sasana's wings, since you're such an expert with Welsh spells?" Ireland grumbled, crossing his arms.

Wales looked at his elder brother disdainfully and answered, "It's against my principles, I told you a long time ago that I wasn't going to use my magic ever again and I'm not going to break that promise anytime soon."

Germany, who had been watching the whole scene in complete and utter confusion, cleared his throat loudly. When he had gained the attention of the nations Germany tried his best to speak calmly, "Well, I suppose I could make you all aware that we can now have the lunch break and calm our nerves down. And make sure England doesn't have access to a chalk anymore, at least not till he understands that he shouldn't cast spells in the meeting."

The nations muttered in agreement, many of them certainly needed to take a breather from being turned into a cat and all.

England could only look in wonder at the white wings that were on his back.

* * *

After the meeting was over Japan brought England over to his brothers and bade the little nation farewell. England started frowning and was about to ask why was he being passed on from nation to nation, as he really couldn't understand what the motivation was behind it, when France walked up to Wales and Ireland.

"Would you take my request to take care of Angleterre into consideration now?" France smiled his enchanting smile.

Wales and Ireland seemed surprised by what seemed to be a renewed offer. Wales then said uneasily, "I really don't know France, I'm still hesitating..."

"Aww, come on Pays de Galles, I may have the reputation of being the greatest country of love but that does not automatically make me a child molester!" France protested dramatically.

"Really?" Ireland smirked at France, crossing his arms as he watched France frown at the Irishman, for both nations knew that Ireland was teasing him again. Wales seemed to think it over seriously while England looked up at all three nations, trying to understand what was going on. France wanted to take care of him, that much England had understood but why were his brothers reacting like that to France's request?

"You can't deny that Angleterre and I have quite a history together." France pointed out.

"We know that..." Wales muttered, still deep in thought. England stared up to Wales, wondering what Wales was going to answer. In actual fact shouldn't England have a say in this? But Japan had taught him to be polite among the others and so England didn't open his mouth to say anything about it.

"It might be... yeah, why not?" Wales finally agreed.

Both Ireland and England blinked in astonishment. "Are you really sure Breatain Beag? Sasana might come back completely deranged and gaga..." Ireland questioned the sanity of Wales' acceptance to France's request.

"You wound me with your ill-founded prejudges!" France cried out over-dramatically but he still winked at Ireland.

The Irish nation rolled his eyes and muttered in amusement. "I have good reason to."

"I don't really and I don't see much harm in England staying with France." Wales shrugged but then bent down to England's height. "But England, avoid casting anymore spells. Like Ireland, you generally don't have a good control on your magic and mistakes can happen. That can be dangerous."

England's eyes widened at the word "dangerous", briefly reminded of the firecracker incident at China's home. He immediately understood and responded seriously, "I promise I won't Wales. I don't want to hurt anyone."

Wales smiled at the response and said, "You've really improved a lot England, I'm happy to see that. Continue recovering your memories, okay?"

The little nation nodded mutely. Wales straightened up and bade France and England farewell. Ireland did the same and then lightly punched Wales' shoulder, telling him off for having insulted his ability in using magic. England watched them go a bit sadly, wondering why they looked so happy going away from him when he felt sad about it. His white wings drooped a little.

France turned to England and smiled cheerfully at him. Though England had faint memories of him at the very beginning of his recovery, England still didn't know what to think of France. He seemed nice but sometimes the nations acted oddly when he was around other nations.

And he had been with that albino nation who had partially caused England to remember an extremely painful memory that till now England could not comprehend why exactly was it so painful.

Still, England had to admit that he felt a bit wary of this nation.

"_Allez mon petit chou, _I don't mean you any harm. You don't have to look at me that way." France smiled reassuringly but England was reluctant to return it. France held out his hand but England didn't take it.

Instead he questioned, "What does "all-ay mo pu-tee chu" mean? I don't understand it."

"Ah, you don't remember it but that's my language." France laughed at England's awkward pronunciation of his French.

"Your language?" England looked perplexed.

"Yes, I speak French which is my language. And you speak English which is your language." France explained.

"What language are we speaking now?" England asked curiously.

"Nation. We generally have two languages each, one common language among our kind and another language that our people developed. Of course some nations have more than two languages."

"Really?" England asked astonished, all his wariness of France replaced by curiosity. Either this nation seemed to know a lot or England's curiosity was finally being sparked and he wanted to know more about himself and of his kind. Also, France had mentioned about them having "quite a history together". England wondered what France meant by that.

"Shall we go home Angleterre?" France proposed, having already started to walk and looking behind him at England.

England nodded wordlessly and followed the French nation, his white wings trailing on the floor.

* * *

When Wales had accepted France's offer America had watched the exchange at a distance. The American was gaping at the folly of the acceptance, didn't Wales have any idea at all who he was entrusting England to?

As Ireland and Wales were leaving, America swiftly walked up to them and blocked their path. Both Celtic nations stopped in front of the superpower, Ireland looking at him curiously while Wales looked at him suspiciously.

"What is it?" Wales questioned America, crossing his arms over his chest. America looked behind Wales at the retreating figures of England and France and then back at the Welsh nation.

America asked, "Did you seriously pass England on to France? You know, France the pervert?"

Wales arched a thick eyebrow, "Yes, I don't know why that should be any of your concern."

"Hey, I'm allowed to be worried about England!" America said defensively, "I really can't see how you can trust France with taking care of England, you know how perverted that guy is! He's always had his eyes on England in the past, what if he tries something weird on England?"

"France is not a child molester." Wales said calmly though he looked quite irritated by the American.

"How are you sure?" America demanded. Wales looked at America exasperatedly and clenched his fists.

"Meiricéa, if there was any indication that Frainc was a child molester we would have seen the effects on his ex-colonies. Don't worry about Sasana, he's in… fairly good hands." Ireland reassured uneasily, looking from Wales to America with careful eyes.

America began to protest," But-"

"Anyway, you've had your chance of taking care of England already. Let him socialize with other nations as well. Maybe England will finally be able to have a cordial relationship with France." Wales huffed in annoyance and walked past America, leaving the meeting room quickly.

The American looked behind him at Wales and wondered out loud, "What's his problem?"

"Truthfully, I don't know." Ireland answered, though he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other unbeknownst by America. "But trust me Meiricéa, Frainc isn't a monster. Sasana will be alright."

"I know France isn't a monster". America sighed, though knowing that fact didn't make him feel any better. Somehow a gut feeling was telling him that this was a bad idea, that something was going to go wrong. America didn't know what, he just knew.

America hoped to God his gut feeling was wrong.

* * *

Unfortunately America, gut feelings are usually right. ^^; So, is this uneasy foreshadowing or am I just pulling the legs of my cherished readers? Wait and see...

When Nekotalia first appeared all those months ago, I thought at some point of the story that I really wanted to put them in the story. This chapter made my dream come true and I hope you cat lovers enjoyed the amounts of cats I put into this chapter. I always try to assign the correct cat breed according to the nations, so obviously Japan was turned into a Japanese Bobtail and America was turned into a Maine Coon. (look up the pictures of a Maine Coon, they're perfect candidates for America thanks to their size and fur). Russia would definately be a Siberian, they're extremely fluffy cats who are used to romping through the snow. I couldn't find a fitting cat breed for China, China does have a cat breed but it has incorrect colours. (there used to be another breed called Sumxu or Chinese Lop-Eared Cat but that breed is now extinct) I thought about maybe a Bombay but I'm not too sure about that. The Italies are European Shorthairs since that breed is thought to have originated from Rome (but today they're more common in Sweden O_o) and France, though he shows all the traits of a Persian, I've been considering the possibility of him being a Benedictine (Chartreux and Persian mix). Germany and Austria have me stumped, the only German cat breed I found was German Rex and the fur there is definately the wrong type. Still searching for those two then.

Though I didn't turn Norway or Denmark into cats, both are Norwegian Forest cats which I have to say was a clever move from Himaruya. ^^ Strangely enough Sweden seems to be a Russian Blue and Hungary a Turkish Van. O_o Strange selection but I won't question Himaruya there. Anyway, I've seen many wonder why England is a Scottish Fold and I think I have an idea and if it was what Himaruya intended, he's an absolute genius. It also explain why that one cat was so hostile towards England in this chapter. Cat typically don't attack kittens, however a problem encountered between Scottish Folds and other cats is miscommunication. Flattened ear usually means in body language offensive or defensive stance and cats who have never met Scottish Folds are sometimes inclined to attack them because they misinterpret the body language. We all know that England is often grumpy and many nations usually have difficulty understanding what England really wants. I'll quote from the Hetalia wiki: "He does not know how to express himself, and others often misunderstand him." If Himaruya chose England to be a Scottish Fold due to this, then I salute him for his genius streak!

Now, on to other matters. Yes, now England has two white wings. Random much? Not really, because I'm presenting you guys another symbolism. It has some connotations to freedom but this is a little different from the blue bird incident. You'll see in the next few chapter what happens. ^^ I was originally split between giving England wings or bunny ears but after seeing an adorable picture with young Brittania Angel I immediately went for the wings. Anyway, I don't really understand the fascination the fans have with giving England bunny ears. o_O

Now in response to magic. Why are England, Ireland and Scotland so bad at it while Wales excels at it? Their temperament is the answer. England, Ireland and Scotland and their people are known for their tempers, you really shouldn't mess with them too much because rage comes easily to them. (I should know, I'm Irish and I have anger issues) Not necessarily everyone but it is a commonly known stereotype that we're a dangerous mixture, especially in a pub. However that is not the case for Wales and his people. They're our Canadian in a way, compared to us they are very calm people and it takes a lot to enrage them. You leave their cultural identity and their language alone and then they usually don't care about anything else. I've met only a few Welsh people in the past but I can bear witness from my father who spent some time in Wales that the people over there are really calm compared to the Irish, Scots and English.

Some of you might also wonder who taught Ireland magic if he taught the rest. On a personal note, I maintain that Ireland is the eldest of the British Isles, why do people think it's Scotland? Ireland freaking invaded Scotland a long time ago and literally flattened the Picts, until to a point that you can't see any traces of them in Scotland's culture today. The remaining Picts were completely merged with the Celts from Ireland. But the Celts weren't the first to inhabit Ireland. There was someone else before them but thanks to the Celts, all traces of these people have been erased. How do we know they were there in the first place? We found human skeletons on Ireland that are older than the first recorded Celts in Middle Europe and in the south of Ireland, there are names of rivers and places that have no Irish root, no one knows in what language those names are from even. They've been just there the whole time and it's really surprising the Celts actually kept the names. There is a book that describes the invasions of Ireland long before the Celts came and though the book now isn't considered historically correct anymore, there are still a few interesting concepts worth noting. Especially with the last invaders, the Tuatha De Danann (translated as "The Children of Danu"). I named the representation of Tuatha De Danann as the one who taught Ireland magic as in all my mythological books, the Tuatha De Danann are considered as a semi-mythological race that was there before the Celts but these fierce humans were already in decline when the Celts came so they are believed to have been exterminated (although one legend says they left to live on the island of Eternal Youth and have stayed there since then).

Alright, I better stop because these author notes are becoming alarmingly long. That's what happens when you've stuffed so much into one chapter I guess. =_= Before I leave, here are the translations of what England said in his Welsh spells, though I used an online translator as I don't know the language. I noticed many people have Druid or Wizard England say his spells in Latin but for me in makes more sense that they should be in Welsh. (seriously, a druid talking in Latin?) Shit, I started chattering again...

Translations:

"Chan 'r asgre chan 'r briddo..." = From the heart of the earth...

"Ag 'r hud a hidla 'n danddaearol... = With the magic that runs underground...

Alwa llwybreiddia 'r da hud a ewyllysia chyfnertha 'm i mewn 'm dasgu. Anrhega 'm 'r allu at chyfnewid 'm llunia i mewn i cath a hunrhywun a chisiau 'r amgarn ewyllysia chordda i mewn i cath cystal." = I call forward the good magic that will help me in my task. Give me the power to change my shape into a cat and anyone that touches the circle will turn into a cat as well.

"Ag 'r anian chan cath a 'i dafodiaith acha 'm balog , drawsffurfio 'm llunia a hynny caea ata a gollwng 'n gwyllt brydiau!" = With the instinct of a cat and its language on my tongue, transform my shape and those close to me and release our wild hearts!

"Drwo 'r 'n gysefin sillafa draiocht, Alwa i maes at 'r da hud at sullsiar hon sillafa a at adfer pawb at 'n hwy 'n gysefin llunia. 'r sillafa was 'n llwyddiannus a Ddiolcha 'r Ffair Bobl achos yn cael dean hon sillafa 'n bosib." = Through the original spell caster, I call out to the good magic to reverse this spell and to return everyone to their original shape. The spell was successful and I thank the Fair Folk for having made this spell possible.

"Alwa i maes at 'r da hud chan 'r briddo at adfer Albion's , 'r swyngyfareddwr s , llunia at 'i 'n gysefin ffurfia!" = I call out to the good magic of the earth to return Albion's, the sorcerer's, shape to its original form.

*pants heavily* Kudos to those who have read all this. See ya!


	24. Chapter 24

Ah, sorry for being back to updating once every two week, I have to cut a lot of things back due to my studying. I barely surfed over the first waves of exams last week, I think I did them pretty well though. But the worst ones have yet to come. Oh, they're coming alright. I have maybe... three weeks left before they start. I'll be hell-bent on studying to get the grade I need to enter university. I'm actually pretty scared, things are moving extremely quickly now. I'll be officialy finishing school on the 24th (finally!) and I'll maybe attend this barbeque party in school after my classmates have completely ransacked the school. I don't know how it is in other schools but the people finishing the last year in my school go completely basillistic for the whole day. We bring flour, eggs, paint, ketchup, shaving cream and sweets into the school and while some of us run through the school throwing sweets into the classrooms towards the younger children, the others have literally a war of shaving cream and flour and everything else outside in the playground. We even attack the younger children when they're changing classes (some actually enjoy it, it's the only day where you're running for your life literally) Pretty chaotic but I like it. (some people braver than us attack the teachers but that really depends on how quick you are at running away from them) However I don't know if I like being in the position of the attacker, until now I've always run away from the older students when those days came. I'm not sure if I will participate in this one. X_x

Anyway, after that I'll have my finals which are 5 written exams and 4 oral exams. From the looks of it I have a pretty good chance of having the grade necessary to enter university but I still have to pass those exams. T_T I don't know if I'll be able to update the story at all during that time, it will be a really rough month. (knowing my own reverse mind, I might update the story. When I say I can, I can't but when I say I can't, miraculously I can. So I'm really confused by myself) Family matters are rapidly chaging as well, the decision has been made and the last links of family will be severed. I will go to university so I'm good but my younger sister... *sigh* And my father still doesn't know but my mother will tell him in a week. *is really scared about the near future...*

Alright, I'll let you get to the story. Everyone has drama in their life, I just need to let steam off or else it will badly affect my writing. I had a particularly huge surge of negative feelings lately but I managed to write it off in another story. The story is really dark and angsty, I don't know if I'll have the courage of finishing it and putting it online. T_T

**Edit: **Alright, I have removed this following line from the chapter: "Romania had approached him and had lectured him on not showing her people enough respect, even though they were just gypsies." I've been approached by Nostalgian who kindlly informed me that Roms are Romani and shouldn't be considered as Romanians. I apologize for this inaccuracy and I have duly removed the mistake from the story. I didn't intend to offend anyone, I just made this mistake and didn't think of checking it because I had picked the inaccuracy up from a Swiss newspaper. But it just shows that we all make mistakes, even a die-hard perfectionist like me. ^^ So I thank Nostalgian for their kindness and patience to inform me of this! (and keep in mind people, if in doubt of one opinion, always seek a second one! *quote shamelessly stolen from the movie "Geisha")

* * *

Chapter 24

England was sitting outside in France's garden, looking at the various flowers and plants curiously. France's garden was quite different from Japan's so England spent a long time discovering the garden. It was so interesting that when night had fallen England had still not explored the garden to the fullest of his desires.

The very next morning England woke up early and though he initially struggled a bit, he finally managed to clamber onto a chair to open the door of his room and he used the same technique to open the door to the garden.

France had brought him to one of his countryside houses so the garden had neither walls nor fences to shut Englland away from the outside world. Not too far from France's house was a large dark forest. England's curiosity had been piqued by it and the little island nation had felt drawn to the forest but France had quickly noticed England's interest and made him promise not to go in there alone. France had promised that England would be able to go to the forest soon when they were going to take a walk. England wondered when that was going to happen.

But right now England just enjoyed the glowing warmth of the golden dawn sun. The garden really looked beautiful with the fresh sun rays washing over every leaf and petal of the green plants. The dew on the grass sparkled timidly in the morning light.

Now quite fascinated with the beauty of the garden, England began to walk around and observe closely the various things of interest. He did not really notice the time pass and the sun rise slightly higher over the sky.

But he did hear the footsteps of someone coming to the garden. England looked up from his inspection of the flowerbed to see who it was.

It was a nation, that much England was clear as his feeling never let him down about this. He recognized him from the meeting on top of that. The brunette nation always looked cheerful but that didn't bother England. It was more that he couldn't really see the nation's eyes properly. And he had that funny hair curl.

England tried remembering the nation's name. Was it maybe...uh, Italy?

The small nation stepped out of the flowerbed carefully and trotted over to the Italian. Italy was looking through the window into France's house.

Italy turned his head around at the sound of someone approaching him and he immediately saw England.

"Ve, England! You're already up? I'm trying to give this book back to France but he won't open the door. I think he might still be asleep." Italy chirped cheerfully, holding a book under his arm.

"I think he is still asleep." England agreed, nodding his head. He then noticed that Italy was staring at him rather intently. (and he still couldn't see the Italian's eyes)

"What is it Italy?" England asked a bit unnerved, looking at the Italian with questioning eyes.

Italy giggled and hugged England tightly, "Ve ve, you're so cute England! You even remembered my name! ...But you can call me Veneciano, Italy sounds too formal when it's outside the World Meeting."

"Uh, okay Ita- I mean Veneciano." England corrected himself, a bit surprised by Italy's affection. Was that nation always this cheerful and affectionate among the others? England had stayed quite some time with Japan so the concept of showing a lot of affection towards others and being clingy appeared quite alien to England.

Veneciano let go of England and sat on his knees. "And you still have these pretty wings!" Italy exclaimed happily, spotting the white wings sprouting from England's back. England looked behind him and frowned at them, disliking them for being the feathery nuisances they were.

They had given him some problem with finding a comfortable sleeping position during the night and there was also the issue with putting a t-shirt on him. He had been forced to cut holes into the t-shirt for his wings and still then England had struggled with them. He was quite clumsy with them in the house, he wasn't entirely used to their presence so he would forget to fold them close to his body. As a result they would brush against things or even bump against them, causing things to wobble and fall. That was another reason why England liked the garden, he was less likely to cause something to fall and break.

When were they going to fade away finally? England really didn't know what use they were to him apart from breaking things and so he felt some irritation towards them.

"You know, you really look like an angel with them."

England turned to look at Italy curiously. "Angel? What is that?"

Italy looked thoughtful, cocking his head to one side as he bit on his lower lip in thought. "Ve, an angel? They're very beautiful creatures that look like humans but are different from them, they're purer. They have big white wings and a halo-"

"Halo?"

"A shiny thing that hovers over your head." Italy explained simply after a moment of hard thinking.

England looked up but of course he couldn't see a halo. He wasn't a real angel anyway, England knew that. Though the image of a halo still amused England a bit.

"Oh, and angels can also fly!" Italy exclaimed excitedly. "Can you fly with those wings?"

The little nation blinked in surprise. "Fly? Like a bird?" That thought hadn't actually occurred to him. At all.

"Yes, just like a bird!" Italy nodded enthusiastically. England felt a bit overwhelmed by this nation's excitement.

"I don't... know... how to..." England mumbled, looking behind him again at his wings. Could he really fly with them? They responded to his orders at least. And they seemed big enough to support his weight in the air.

"Raise your wings!" Italy said eagerly, lifting his arms into the air. England gave the order to his wings and they spread out instantly.

"And now down!" Italy brought his arms down and England did the same with his wings. There was a small whoosh of air created by the wings.

"See, it's not that hard. You just have to flap your wings quickly and then you can fly!" Italy bounced up and down animatedly, his sunny smile wide.

"Really?" England didn't feel completely sure about all this. Was a nation supposed to be able to fly? He didn't have wings before and he wasn't a bird.

But maybe it would be fun. Though England was a bit afraid of heights, he was still curious about how it felt to be up in the sky. A confident smile appeared on the small nation's face and his eyes lightened up with determination.

"So, can you help me learn how to fly Veneciano?"

* * *

When France finally woke up the first thing he did was to check on his British guest. However the little nation was nowhere to be seen and for a brief moment France wondered where in the world England could have disappeared to.

He then heard some laughter from the garden. France walked up to the window and looked outside into the garden. He couldn't help but smile in amusement at the sight he beheld.

Veneciano and England were in the garden, both laughing. France remembered that Italy had told him yesterday at the end of the World Meeting that he would pass by his house to return one of France's books.

They seemed to be having fun, Italy was bouncing up and down and waving his arms in the air. England was imitating Italy's movements, though not as fervently as Veneciano. His wings were mimicking Veneciano's arms as well.

France watched the scene, finding both nations completely adorable. To be honest, France didn't think he had ever seen England this happy. His green eyes were alight with life and excitement. England really looked better without his permanent frown etched on his face.

The ringing of his mobile phone caused France to reluctantly look away from the window. He picked up the phone and checked the ID. It read: _Le Président._

The French nation sighed, wondering out loud, "Mon Dieu, what does he want from me again?"

He then replied a tad too cheerfully, "Bonjour Monsieur le Président!"

"Bonjour la France, j'aimerais bien discuter avec toi au sujet de l'expulsion des Roms..." France's boss started chattering, sounding half-excited and half-exasperated at the same time.

"Mmmm..." France said in a non-committed tone, his boss was talking a lot about that issue lately and it was frankly tiring France. Yes, he knew all about the issue about the Roms.

As the French president continued talking incessantly, France wandered back to the window to watch Veneciano and England silently. At first all seemed fine until he noticed something odd. Veneciano still had his arms in the air, but now France realized that they were making flapping motions. England was repeating them with his wings.

Was Veneciano trying to... teach England how to fly? France paled as realization dawned upon him. England was flapping his wings harder and every time he jumped he seemed to gain more and more confidence in his wings.

France had to put a stop to this, if England learned how to fly how was France going to have some level of control on the Brit? You couldn't control a nation who could fly away. And anyway, nations weren't meant to be able to fly.

"Pardon Monsieur le Président, mais je dois aller. Il y a une urgence." France hurriedly apologised to his boss, cutting the human off.

"Une... une urgence? C'est a faire avec le pay?" The president asked fearfully.

"Non, non, mais je dois aller maintenant. Excusez moi Monsieur le Président!" France quickly hung up before his boss could say anything else. He had to hurry!

France quickly rushed outside into the garden and shouted, "Angleterre, stop what you are doing right n-"

"Ve, ciao France! You've just come in time!" Veneciano greeted the French nation excitedly, pointing upwards.

The French nation looked up and saw England air-borne, flapping his wings and going higher into the sky. When England spotted France, he called out breathlessly, "Look France, I'm flying!"

* * *

England couldn't help but giggle at France's amazed face and his gaping mouth. He seemed very surprised that England was flying. Italy was beside the French nation and he just seemed overjoyed, waving at England energetically.

Flapping his wings England went higher and higher. But the air currents were stronger up here so it became difficult for England to stay stable in the air. He barely knew how to control his movements, he had no idea how to turn, go forward or backward. England just knew how to go upwards shakily.

Hmm, he was rather high now. England started to feel worry gnaw at him. His initial fear of heights finally kicked in, the feeling of accomplishment having quickly worn off. How was he going to get down from here? If he flapped his wings he went higher and if he stopped he would fall and he was quite a way up, he would rather avoid falling from this height.

He managed to reach the roof of France's house and with difficulty, landed and scrambled into the rain gutter. England looked over the gutter down to the two nations nervously, realizing that he was really high and that he had no idea how to get down.

Thankfully France seemed to realize that too and he shouted, "Don't panic Angleterre, spread your wings and let the air currents carry you and try to use them to get down!"

England took the information in with a bit of confusion. How was he supposed to do that? After a lot of hesitation, England spread his wings slowly and jumped off the roof, flapped them twice until he felt an air current under his wings. He stopped flapping and let the air current support him.

Although he wobbled quite a bit, England tried his best to let the air currents carry him. With getting down his goal, England leaned forward and slowly moved from air current to air current towards the ground.

Both nations watched England closely as he made his way down to the ground. Veneciano had quietened when he saw how worried France looked and after briefly wondering why, the Italian nation realized that England might have gotten hurt if he had lost control of his wings or if he had fallen.

Though it took several excruciating minutes England finally reached the ground and he landed bumpily on his knees and hands. France rushed to him and hugged England tightly.

"Mon Dieu, don't you dare do something like that again Angleterre! Imagine if you had fallen from that height?" France scolded crossly, holding England tightly to his chest. England withered under the scolding, afraid that he had angered France. Then he remembered China having a similar reaction. Did that mean that France had been worried about him?

"Ve, I'm really sorry France. I didn't know it would be dangerous." Veneciano apologized tearfully, his bottom lip trembling.

France looked up and stared at Veneciano. He sighed and opened one arm. "Allez Veneciano, join the hug."

Jumping to the invitation, Veneciano threw his arms around France and England and gave them a bear-hug. England gasped out, "...can't... breath..."

Veneciano released them and all three nations sat back, staring at each other. England looked away, feeling slightly guilty. France finally said, "Angleterre, I just want you to understand that I was worried. You could have fallen and hurt yourself very badly."

Ah, so France had been worried! England nodded slowly and murmured, "I understand France."

He then looked up at France and asked, "But won't my wings disappear soon? What's the... harm in using them?"

"Ve, I thought that England really looked like an ange when he was in the sky. He looked cute when he was flying." Veneciano added helpfully, quickly returning to his usual cheerful state.

France looked thoughtful before answering, "I don't think it would be too bad to use your wings while they still are there but at least don't try to immediately take off and fly like that. You're not a bird Angleterre, you don't fully understand the techniques of flying. Neither does Veneciano nor I understand that, no nation was ever meant to fly."

"And if I practice and am careful?" England questioned brightly.

The French nation stared at England in pure astonishment. Had England just sounded like America, when that nation had been just a colony? When in the world had France overlooked that aspect of England's personality? The small England that France had met had been moody and defensive. Nothing near to the little England in front of him.

"I... suppose so." France replied slowly, still staring at England in surprise. Veneciano was also looking at England confusedly, perhaps having the same thought process as France.

"Well Veneciano," France turned to the Italian nation, "Wasn't there a book you wanted to return?"

"Uh..." Veneciano looked lost but quickly answered, "Ve, sì! I have the book with me!"

"D'accord, let's go inside then." France nodded and stood up. He turned to England and said, "You can stay outside if you want Angleterre."

England smiled and nodded. France started to walk towards his house with Italy quickly tagging along. Before he entered France looked behind him and was not surprised to see that England was practicing again with his wings, this time more wary though.

Once the two other nations were inside, Veneciano burst out excitedly, "Ve France, England really sounded like America!"

"Indeed..." France murmured thoughtfully. "I had never thought that England would resemble America so much."

"But why did he sound like America?" Veneciano asked curiously.

France shrugged. "I really don't know why Veneciano. And I also don't know if that's a good sign."

Well, neither knew if it was a good sign or a bad sign. On one hand England seemed more stable but didn't that resemblance to America mean that England was becoming americanised? Wouldn't that further weaken England's connections to Europe?

The Brit had already been one foot in Europe and another foot in North America before the incident.

Would England become fully americanized? Was it even possible.? France would have to watch out for further development.

* * *

When Italy had gone home France went back to the window to watch England in the garden. The little island nation was still practicing with his wings but he was a lot warier now than before, careful not to get carried away with his excitement with his new-found ability.

France smiled as he observed England raise his wings up and down slowly and carefully, as if trying to feel every single feather moving along with the soft wind. England would hop lightly into the air and spread his wings, gliding for a couple of seconds before landing softly on the grass. He repeated the process a few times, sometimes flapping his wings when on the ground.

England was really taking safety measures more seriously, focussing on practicing his wings until he was sure he understood the concept of flying and using the various air currents to aid in his flight. France smiled in amusement as he watched the Brit practice, the island nation did look adorable with that determined expression on his face.

But still, France hoped England's wings would fade away soon. It wouldn't do for England to get used to them and then have them suddenly disappear.

The elder nation sighed and went to sit down on his armchair to relax, now that it looked like England was going to be more careful with practicing his wings. France leaned his head back and became pensive. He thought back at England's expression when he asked the French nation if he could continue practicing his wings in a safer way. England had resembled America so much at that moment… but then again, America did have a tendency to act very childlike. Almost too childish sometimes but France couldn't do anything about that.

France then started considering… was that aspect of England he and Italy had biefly glimpsed an alternative to what England could have been if his childhood had been different? France was aware that the combination of his teasing and the bullying and teasing from England's siblings had a significant impact on the Brit. And then these gaps where England would be completely on his own, having no contact whatsoever to another person. Always lonely…

Was it so surprising that England had grown up to be emotionally unstable?

The French nation remembered when he first met England. How things were so simple back then, more black and white. France hadn't entirely grasped the concept that most things of the world were grey at that time. Then again France did have a relatively comfortable life under Rome's wing back then.

He had always known about the island ever since France had discovered the coast and the sea stretching towards the horizon. While exploring along the coast France had become aware of the distant white cliffs, those that would be later called the White Cliffs of Dover. France also noticed that Rome would go with his armies to the island and sometimes the empire had returned tired and sometimes battered.

Rome would even sometimes be expressing anger, muttering under his breath something about "those stupid barbarians". France assumed that the Ancients Rome fought with on that island were fierce and violent. He had for that reason avoided that foreign land for a while.

When the Ancients had fallen and France had lost sight of Rome, it had taken just a few years until France's curiosity about the other land had been sparked to life again. One day France was walking back and forth and slowly approached the Cap Gris Nez. He stood almost at the edge, narrowing his eyes as he judged the distance between his land and the land of the unknown.

The French nation had wondered whether he should try swimming or building a small boat to get over to the other side. It looked quite far but it was doable to reach the land by swimming.

France had walked back and forth again, looking at the cliffs calculatedly. He really wished he was on those cliffs already, it would spare him all the work he would have to do to reach the other side.

How he really wished he was on those white cliffs.

Suddenly there was a whoosh of cold air and France was completely shocked to find himself on unfamiliar soil. He looked behind him and saw… his land. He looked down behind him and saw the white cliffs he had always seen from afar. He had somehow gone from his land to the other side within less than a few seconds. Deep within him he felt a spark of energy being used up but it was so small that France didn't even blink at the loss. He just… knew that this small bit of energy had been used up, presumably due to whatever that had caused him to be transported from one land to another.

That was how France discovered how to nation-hop.

France had then proceeded to explore the large expanse of fields and forests of this unknown land, wondering if he would meet with anyone of his kind. He really hoped that there weren't any Ancients left here, or else he would have to make a run for it.

It had taken him about an hour or so before France saw not too far from him a small cloaked figure sitting on a rock and conversing to the air. France had cocked his head to one side in confusion, with who was the other talking to?

He had used his sixth sense to confirm what the other was and was happy to feel that it was another of his kind. He approached the smaller nation carefully, trying not to step on anything that would make any noise.

Of course France had to overlook that tiny twig on the ground. The sound it made was so small and unsignificant and yet the other nation had quickly looked up to see who it was, his green eyes wide with fear and apprehension.

France had stood frozen to the ground, both nation staring at each other wordlessly. Then France's eyes had travelled upwards and he saw thick caterpillar-like eyebrows. They looked so ridiculous that France had burst out in a fit of loud laughter.

And that was how the first meeting between France and England had gone. Not a very good way to kick off with another nation and for centuries later France would continually tease England about those eyebrows. But it was not back then that the hatred had started, it would be a few centuries later when England was growing in power, rivaling France's and eventually surpassing him that had sparked the deep hatred both nations had felt for each other and anything they associated the other with.

The French nation did sometimes wonder how his relationship with England would have been if the first meeting had gone differently. If France had been nicer and given England reason to trust him, would they have been allies instead of enemies through those countless battles through the centuries? Would England have resisted so much when the Normans invaded his land?

But that was all in the past. What had happened, happened. France would get nothing out of thinking what might have been. The importance here was to see if he could improve his relationship with England. Maybe this was France's chance to make amends.

Who knew?

Hmm, since England seemed to be rebuilding himself by copying what he saw (such as Japan's distinct lack of swearwords or America's enthusiasm in dangerous things) then France could maybe correct a few faulty traits that England had. For example, England's lack of taste in good food. Maybe he might even pick up better cooking skills from France!

Yes, there were a few things France could do to "improve" England. There were some improvements that could be made to England's character.

It was in his best interest after, wasn't it?

* * *

Ah France, what do you have in mind? *shakes head* Alright, I know some reviewers expressed their concerns in France being the caretaker of England, that it was almost certain for some of you that France was going to go all child molester on England. Now, I don't know how many of you were there when I first introduced France into this story but you guys should all know that I prefer a brotherly maybe over-bearing France rather than his usual pervertedness. Alright, here are some of my opinions:

**Is France a pervert**? Yes. He definately is a pervert. That I cannot deny. Not even canon tries to deny this.

**Is France a child molester? **I actually answer nay to this question. To be a child molester would mean one has sexual urges towards children and to have these sexual urges means that person has a mental sickness. And I don't believe France has that. Sure, he's really perverted but does that automatically mean he is a paedophile? If we look at the official sources, France doesn't make a move on children. The anime might have exaggerated France's pervertedness a bit but my headcanon doubts France is really sexually attracted to children.

**Did something happen between France and England when they were younger? **Though I believe that France was not a child molester in modern times, I also believe something might have happened between those two that may have led to England's deep hatred and mistrust towards France. NO, I DON'T think it's rape! At least not when they were children, come on. But there was something that might have made England label France as a pervert permanently. France did live after all with Rome and children are known for copying from what they see the adults do. France certainly picked up something from Rome. (apart from being a total womanizer like Rome) A bit confusing yes but overall, France might have done something as a child to England but in the modern day France is not a child molester.

But I don't think France is entirely innocent. You peope might have not caught it but there is another side of France that could make things degenerate rather quickly. "In his best interest"? ""For his own good?" Pay attention to those sentences because the derailment will not occur through child molestation but through another way. France does have a personal agenda, he will do things that will benefit him the most. And it is in France's interest that England becomes more European-oriented than the mixture England is in. That's what one of France ex-boss, De Gaulle, once said about England, "We simply cannot trust a country who has one foot in Europe and another foot in the Americas". Chances France would want to strengthen England's ties to Europe? Pretty big I would say.

Sorry for my awkwardness in writing the flying scene, I have no clue at all how flying works so it was a bit of guesswork and the rest is just... I don't know. I was also confused with whether I should write Italy or Veneciano for our beloved Italian. Ah well, I still hope you enjoyed this chapter. Because this is pretty much the last light chapter for a while, now's the time where things will degenerate and I will reach the crucial crisis point in a few chapters. So watch out for that.

Ah yes, French translations! (sorry jagaimo-chan, I know what your opinion on French is ^^;)

Le Président = The President

Mon Dieu = My God

"Bonjour Monsieur le Président!" = Hello Mr. President

"Bonjour la France, j'aimerais bien discuter avec toi au sujet de l'expulsion des Roms..." = Hello France, I would like to discuss with you on the matter of the expulsion of the Roms... (you know, the gypsies that France expulsed a few months ago. It was on the news a lot, and I could read it everywhere on the newspaper. It did cause quite a controversy, countries like Romania weren't happy at all)

"Pardon Monsieur le Président, mais je dois aller. Il y a une urgence." = Sorry Mr. President, but I must go. There is an emergency.

"Une... une urgence? C'est a faire avec le pay?" = An... an emergency. Is it related to the country?

"Non, non, mais je dois aller maintenant. Excusez moi Monsieur le Président!" = No, no, but I must go now. Excuse me Mr. President!

"D'accord = Alright

Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed it! ^^


	25. Chapter 25

So, some of you will probably yell at me to go back to studying and preparing myself for the exams but honestly... I can't. I've just studied the entire day? I managed to study 4 subjects and now my head is completemy refusing to cooperate with me. Everytime I approached a past paper now I get those killer headaches and I feel dizzy. Well, I am sick after all... and I don't think I'm emotionally well. I find myself in the position of counseling my mother through the whole divorce thing, despite not being a real counselor and would you believe that a decade ago I would have done anything to stop my mother from getting a divorce with my father because the idea of divorced parents frightened me? Oh the irony, now I'm encouraging my mother to get a divorce because I know she's been planning for months and I know she wants to be free again. I don't want to sound harsh but my father is really a tyrant and he and my mother haven't showed any signs of love in years. They both need to find someone more compatible, that I'm 100% sure.

Alright, on to other matters. The end of school celebration was quite epic, I have to say that it was really impressive this year. Seems like many of my classmates studied what our predecessors had done in the past years and then they used almost every idea this year. ^^ I think I will miss this school despite it being overpopulated and very chaotic, I like the school for it's diversity. You know, it's a very Hetalia-like school. Our classes were organised into language sections and I was in the English section! 8D Other sections include French, German, Italian, Spanish, Danish, Hungarian and Polish. It's crazy how much the sections resembled the Hetalian characters. Like the people from the French and Spanish section were big buddies, English and French section were always rivals, the German section was always hard-working and quiet, Danish section act quite badass... yup, really gonna miss that school.

Alright, I feel a bit better again. Have the 25th chapter and I really apologize for it's shortness because I've been really stressed out but I still wanted to post a new chapter because it helps take my mind off of some things. You know, just a few hours rest from all the madness in my life right now. It helps bring my stress levels down... enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 25

France decided it would be a good idea to remind England where he was geographically and also show him the world map. This might actually encourage England to think himself more as a European nation, so that England was less likely to associate himself with America. The French nation was still uncertain about if it was a good idea that England was starting to resemble America too much in personality.

England's ties to Europe were weak enough, no need to fully sever them.

At the very least England had taken France's warning to heart and was careful when practicing with his wings. He often practiced his flying throughout the day until nightfall and he was actually becoming quite good at it. Almost bird-like. France had to agree with Italy, England really looked like an angel when he was flying.

But angels couldn't get hurt and never were in danger. And England was a nation, not an angel. So France was always a little nervous when England started to practice his flying skills at a higher altitude.

France called England in when the little nation had passed most of his morning in the garden. He led the Brit into his study room where there were many books stacked on the shelves. (and no, not all of them were about love and romance, those had a special room of their own of course)

He took a dusty geography book from the shelf and blew the dust off it carefully. It wasn't exactly an old book but France just really never bothered with geography books. They were dull and France personally preferred meeting the actual nations rather than seeing their geographic location in a book. The French nation opened the book and after sifting through a few pages, he came to the page he was looking for.

"Here Angleterre." France set the book on the ground for the little nation to look at and with a wide smile, he asked, "Do you know what this is?"

England stared at the open book curiously but after a moment of close scrutiny he admitted, "No, I don't really know what this is supposed to be."

"It's a map. More specifically, a map of the current world. Look at the names." France encouraged the Brit.

The little nation sat on his knees to look closer at the words written on the map. After a few minutes he pointed at one spot and stated, ""France" is written here."

"Bravo England, you managed to find my country!" France smiled happily. England looked up at France, his thick eyebrows furrowed in confusion. France realized that England was not following the French nation.

Hmm, maybe France should explain it better. "Look Angleterre, you know that we're nations, oui?" England nodded slowly at that but confusion was still evident in his eyes.

"The biggest difference between us and the humans is that as nations, we are a representation of something. This map shows all the countries that exist and each of us represents a land. Do you follow?"

"Not really..." England replied uncertainly, shaking his head.

"What do you understand by a nation? Did someone explain the word to you?" France asked, trying to find a foothold of comprehension between the two nations.

England frowned. "No one did. I just... knew for some reason. We are connected to the land. That much I know because I can feel it. In Japan's house Japan was connected to the land. In China's house China was connected to the land. Once they were somewhere else I didn't feel the connection."

France blinked in surprise. Really, even after having forgotten so much about himself and about the others, his "sixth sense" was still intact? How unfair... but it was an advantage nevertheless. At least England had the right idea of what exactly their kind was. And had at some point grasped the differences between the nations and the humans.

"Alright, so can you understand now that this connection exists between a nation and their land because they represent the people who live in that land?" France questioned hopefully and was glad to see England nod his answer affirmatively at the question.

"This map then shows where our lands are all placed and how much territory they each have. Except on a smaller scale, to show the actual sizes of the countries on paper is impossible. The place you found that has my name written on it is my country and I represent it."

England listened closely to the elder nation and stared at the map thoughtfully. He finally muttered, "So every nation I met is on this map?"

"The officially recognized ones, yes."

The small nation cocked his head to one side thoughtfully. "Where is America then? And Japan? And Canada?"

"Ah, you will have to look for them yourself." France grinned as England began to immediately do that, tracing the words lightly with his finger and taking the names in.

Then he exclaimed, "I found Canada!" England looked at the picture of Canada's country and then looked back at France's country and he bemusedly added, "Canada is bigger than you!"

"Of course Angleterre, in Europe there are more of us so the countries are smaller. But that doesn't make me any weaker than Canada." France chuckled in amusement at England's reaction.

England frowned after a moment and pointed below Canada's country in confusion. "Is that America? I see his name but there are other words written in front of it..."

"That's his official name. He's officially called "United States of America" but everyone calls him "America" for short." France explained.

The little nation looked surprised at that. Then he asked, "Then where am I? I can't see myself anywhere on the map."

France chuckled lightly. "You also have an official name that not many of us call you by. You're called the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, or shortened on this map, UK."

England quickly found it and frowning, he asked, "I'm really small compared to every other nation."

_You used to be bigger._ France thought silently but decided not to voice it. It wasn't the time or the place to bring this up. He heard England marvel, "And I'm also very close to you!" The little nation looked up to France and questioned, "But why am I called the United Kingdom?"

"You and your brothers Pays des Galles, Écosse and Irlande du Nord make up one official country." France answered simply.

"Why?"

"I'll answer that question later." France said evasively and quickly changed the subject. "Alors Angleterre, do you notice something? Since you're quite close to Europe that makes you a European nation, right?"

"Europe... that's our continent? But I'm separated from you all!" England looked at the map closely.

"Oui, but you're still part of Europe Angleterre. A lot of Europe's history has affected you as well, so you shouldn't forget your roots to this continent." France explained insistently and added, "Look, both Amèrique and Canada are on the North American continent."

"But what does that mean?"

"They're not European nations and you're not a North American nation. Japan and China are Asian nations while you aren't. Don't try to forget that." France hoped that this intervention would cause England to strengthen his ties to Europe and weaken the ones towards the North American continent. He was finally fixing the problem that De Gaule mentioned several decades ago.

"But..." England faltered and then spoke up a bit spitefully, "I can understand about Japan and China, we do look different from them but America and Canada look JUST like us, the Europeans. Why?"

_Oops._ France thought belatedly. England wasn't that stupid and what was worse, he seemed to have caught on that France was trying to manipulate him. And England really didn't look pleased. At all. He even looked like his older self with that suspicious frown directed at France.

"_If it ain't broke, don't fix it." _That thought ran through France's mind and he had to curse that person who had been idiotic enough to invent this idiom. And yet... it was so true right at this moment.

"Err, I shall explain that later as well. We should go and eat now." France mumbled evasively and stood up hurriedly.

It was better to retreat for now.

* * *

Later on, France tried to pacify England as the Brit had stayed a little cold towards him. He had asked what England wanted to do but the little nation was stubborn and had said he didn't feel like doing anything.

Suddenly France got a brilliant idea. A very brilliant idea even. He asked if England still wanted to visit the forest. That turned out to be the correct thing to ask the island nation. England immediately brightened at the idea and he quickly affirmed that he really wanted to go there.

Of course, France knew that England had always had a soft spot for forests. It had been in a forest that France had first seen England after all and for many decades after that the small nation would always be seen near forests.

For France it had never been a simple task to find the elusive England back then. Once England had been "tamed" and adapted to live in a castle, life had gotten easier for France when he wanted to visit the Brit.

So a few minutes later both France and England set out to the forest that lay near France's house. England's wings were itching to spread out and England took off from the ground with a beating of his wings as soon as they reached the first pine trees.

France looked up a bit alarmed and called out, "Angleterre, be careful up there! Fait attention!"

"I am!" England replied back, flapping his wings a few more times to balance himself in the air. He stopped flapping once he felt an air current under his wings and he let the air current carry him. He did not look down at France and soon France sighed and continued walking. And so both nations continued their "walk", one on the ground and the other in the air. Every now and again France would look up to check on England carefully. He still wasn't convinced about the whole flying business.

However England was, strangely so, almost completely at ease in the air. England enjoyed the feel of the wind through his hair and he marvelled at just... how free he felt. He now understood why Japan's bird had wanted to be free. England wouldn't want to be denied this right to be in the air.

Even his fear of heights had been almost conquered. As England got more and more convinced of his capacities he began trying out different things in the air, like small turns, loops, dives, barrel rolls... of course he only did it if he was absolutely sure that he would be able to stay stable in the air.

Unfortunately France did not fully approve of this and very often made it vocally known to England that he shouldn't do this nor do that. But France couldn't fly and so England didn't feel inclined to really obey the French nation.

Anyway, France had tried before to manipulate him earlier and England was still angry about that. Like all nations before him, France knew about something that England didn't and wasn't willing to tell England more about it. That frustrated England but what could he do about it? And to top it off England got the feeling that France had been trying to pass him a message about him being a European nation and not a North American nation.

England didn't understand the motive behind it but he understood enough that France had been trying to manipulate him on something he had no knowledge of, as if trying to convince him of something that must have some importance. Because England didn't have any memories about it he would have to accept the universal truth that he was part of the European continent but the little nation didn't understand why France had seemed so insistent on it.

And it angered him. So England felt no qualms going against France. If France was going to be sneaky, so could England.

He flapped his wings to go higher, pretending he didn't hear what France had said. The French nation called out to him to stop going so high but finally seemed to understand that England was still angry at him.

The small nation looked down at France and continued flying in silence. He looked up towards the horizon and allowed himself to enjoy the feel of the sun rays on his skin. He really shouldn't be that angry with France, he just felt hurt that no one was willing to explain to him what had happened really. Why, was he too "young" to bear the truth? England thought he deserved to have some things explained to him. He felt confused and lost and he hated those feelings.

France looked at England and sighed sadly. He really had gone awry here, huh? France had simply wanted to ensure that England would feel more connected to Europe instead of America and Canada and all he managed to do was make England angry against him. That was certainly not what France had wanted to do.

Fault was that France had underestimated England. The Brit had quickly picked up what France had been up to but had probably not understood the motive behind it. Thus England was now unwilling to listen to France and to make it worse, he had wings and so could do anything he wanted and France couldn't control him.

Curse those wings! If England didn't have them France wouldn't be worrying the whole time over the little nation. And he would be easier to keep an eye on.

Suddenly two shots rang out through the forest.

France froze and an ice-cold chill ran down his spine. The elder nation looked around wildly. Hunters? He could hear their excited chattering somewhere to the right from him. But they weren't even supposed to be here, the hunting season wouldn't be starting for another few weeks! What were they doing here? England had to get down now lest he became an accidental target for the hunters.

He looked up to the sky to call England down but the words died in his throat. France paled and his blue eyes widened. England...

The small nation was nowhere to be seen in the sky.

* * *

Go on, shoot me already. I'm completely addicted to writing cliffhangers, while you guys wonder the fate of England, I will wonder my fate with the exams and the marks. Seems fair, eh? Of course not but I couldn't squeeze more out of my mind, I just have those bad headaches lately. X_x Anyway I want to see how many of you guys will guess right whether I actually allowed England to be struck by a bullet or maybe he panicked at the sound and dove to safety into the forest. (but the hunters are still there...)

Alright, we've had our first conflict between France and England. France tries to manipulate England into associating himself more to the European continent and England picks this up and France's plan completely backfires. And now England is angry against France for trying to manipulate him. Oh dear France, you're on a very thin line with England there, you shouldn't think about your advantages first. XP

I want to write more stuff here but I can really think of something else to add, my mind feels a bit muddled right now. Probably doesn't help that I'm watching "Inception" right now but... ah, I'm gonna leave you here now. Hope you enjoyed this really short chapter, the unfair cliffhanger and look forward to the next chapter where we will learn the fate of England. That's about it, I have nothing else to say. I don't know when I can upload the next chapter, definately not next week and I'm not too sure about the week after that.

Translations:

Fait attention! = Be careful

Pays des Galles, Écosse and Irlande du Nord = Wales, Scotland, Northern Ireland


	26. Chapter 26

Well, here's the next chapter that I'm sure many of you have been waiting for. Sorry for the cliffhanger, I had been in a really bad mood then. At least none of you were too upset by it, yes? Heh, I guess this story will soon be known as the "story who has too many freaking cliffhangers". Hey, at least it establishes a sense of continuity, right?

Finals are going alright, I've done 4 of them and I have 5 more to go. At least the 4 were some of the worst subjects, I only have to worry about writing my Biology exam and then the remaining exams are just oral exams. And for those I only have to worry slightly about the History one and I'm pretty sure Hetalia will help me there. XD But my problems in my family seem to be getting worse. My father is in complete denial and is slowly chipping away at my mother's determination to leave him. And he suddenly wants my sister to stay with him. Seriously? He treats her as a mistake during her whole existence, always underlining how much I was his favourite, and now suddenly he refuses to let my sister leave with my mother? Of course he just intends on using my sister as a tool to force my mother to come back... asshole. *grumbles angrily*

*sigh* Oh well, you've had an insight in my troubled life, and now I give you the next chapter in the hopes that you enjoy it. Sorry if I treat this a bit like Livejournal but I just seriously need to let a bit of steam out. And it's not like you have to read it, you can always skip straight to the story. ^^ Sorry once again for my ranting. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 26

France willed his panicking heart to calm down. He had to calm himself down or he wouldn't be able to think straight.

Just because England wasn't to be seen anymore in the sky didn't necessarily mean that the hunters had hit him? Non, non, France shouldn't assume the worst already. Thinking negatively didn't do you any good after all. England had probably been frightened by the sounds of gunshots (who wouldn't be?) and had dived into the forest to hide.

Yeah, that was probably it. England had forgotten what gunshots sounded like and had flown to safety. There was no need to believe that the hunters had seen England and had shot him down. France would have heard England cry out if the Brit had gotten hit.

Wouldn't he?

Anyway, France had to confront those hunters. They were hunting when the hunting season hadn't even begun yet and they would be in serious trouble for having broken the regulations. Once he would be rid of them he would look for England and confirm that the island nation was safe and sound.

Because England was just hiding. He hadn't been shot down. No chance.

France walked in the direction that he had heard the gunshots and voices come from. He heard the voices of two men, they were talking rather loudly and obnoxiously. France stepped through the bushes and came upon them, both carrying their rifles proudly.

He frowned angrily and demanded loudly, "Qu'est-ce que vous faisez ici?" (What are you doing here?)

The men turned around to face France in surprise and one said, "Monsieur?"(Mister?)

France crossed his arms and sternly said, "Vous savez que la saison de chasse n'est pas encore ouverte." (You know that the hunting season hasn't opened yet.)

"Ah bon?" (Oh yeah?) Both men looked astonished by what France had said. A man admitted, "Je ne savais pas, on a cru que c'etait déjà ouverte." (I didn't know, we thought it was already open.)

France groaned inwardly. The stupidity of the humans knew literally no end! Einstein had been right on that one. He said in a hostile tone, "Eh bien, il n'est pas, alors je vous suggère vous deux de quitter la forêt avant que je le signale au forestier. Avez vous même un permis de chasse?" (Well, it isn't, so I suggest you two leave the forest before I inform the forester. Do you even have a hunting licence?)

"Mais attend!" (But wait!) One man protested. "Nous avons tiré sur une créature étrange, vous l'avez vu tout par hasard? Il était vraiment grand, mais nous ne savons pas ce que c'était." (We shot at a strange creature, didn't you see it by any chance? It was really big, but we don't know what it was.)

The French nation glared at the human and the man's enthusiasm died quickly. France said lowly, "Oui, je l'ai vu. C'était un héron, une espèce menacée. Maintenant, sortez de la forêt avant que je me mets vraiment en colère." (Yes, I saw it. It was a heron, an endangered species. Now, get out of the forest before I really get angry.)

The two humans didn't need further convincing, seeing how angry France really was already. His whole frame with literally shaking with rage. Those idiots! If France wasn't currently very worried about England he would have reported both of them to the authorities in the blink of an eye.

Once the hunters were gone and their voices couldn't be heard anymore, France started calling for England, looking around the area. England had to be around here somewhere, France knew that. A tiny voice at the back of France's mind was nagging at how he shouldn't have allowed England to fly at all. Now that he knew that the hunters had shot at England, France feared that England may have been hit by one of the bullets.

The French nation called out several times and when he got no response France started to worry more and more. Why wasn't England replying?

He paused a moment and it was then that France heard a faint reply from England. France rushed in the direction where England's voice had come from and quickly came upon England hiding in the bushes.

England was soaking wet. France saw a nearby creek and assumed that England had fallen in it. France crouched to get a good look at England.

The little nation had pulled his knees to his chest and was trembling. The sight broke France's heart and he pulled England into a comforting hug. England let out a shuddering breath and fisted his trembling hands into France's shirt.

There was a metallic tang in the air and France pulled back, fearing the worst. England's shirt was ripped at the shoulder and blood was oozing out of a gash. France studied the wound carefully but was glad to see that the bullet had only grazed the skin and that the wound wasn't very deep.

The wound would be able to heal quickly. France was now more worried about the state of England's mind rather than his body.

"Ça va Angleterre? Are you alright?" France asked gently, staring at England carefully.

England nodded uncertainly, not gazing directly at France. "Who... why did they shoot me?"

"They thought you were a bird Angleterre, they didn't do it to purposely hurt you." France replied soothingly, then he suddenly realized. "Wait, you knew those were guns?"

"I've... heard them. In my nightmares, I hear a lot of them very often. But hearing them like this is worse than in my dreams." England shivered and gazed up at France. France looked thoughtful.

"You have those dreams often?" France asked. No further mention had been made about England's dreams since America's party and that was a few months ago. France was curious whether there had been any changes since then.

"Almost every single night." England mumbled quietly.

"You remember them very well?"

"Not... really. I don't seem to be able to see the faces of the people in my dreams."

The French nation seemed to be thinking about something really hard but whatever it was, he wasn't telling England about it.

France sighed and then looked at England brightly. "Well, let's get you home and put a bandage on that wound, oui?"

As England was picked up by France and carried home, the Brit couldn't help but feel that he was really missing something. What had been that strange look on France's face? What did he know that England didn't?

Why wasn't anyone telling him what was going on? Why all this secrecy?

* * *

_England opened his eyes and was faced with darkness. He sighed deeply, he was in this place once again. He really shouldn't feel surprised anymore, somehow England knew that he had to be here. He didn't know why, all he knew was that he had to get used to it. _

_He was however surprised that one of his personalities was waiting for him already. Since Japan's house England hadn't heard of them anymore and he had assumed that he would never see them again. Apparently that wasn't the case._

_Approaching the personality slowly, England looked at him very closely. This was the best way to identify his personalities, they all had something in their eyes that quickly told England whether they were dangerous or not. _

_This personality, however, looked completely harmless from the very first moment England saw him. He was smiling, a friendly sparkle in his green eyes. This personality looked just about as old as the war-weary England, except this one didn't look worn out at all. On the contrary, he seemed to be bursting with energy._

"_Um... hello?" England greeted uncertainly, as the personality showed no signs of moving or speaking to him._

_The personality looked overjoyed by England's greeting and cheerfully replied, "Hello England my lad!"_

"_So," England looked at the personality oddly, "what personality are you?"_

"_I'm your happy personality!" Happy England smiled widely._

_Well, that wasn't a difficult one. England should have been able to figure that one out without a problem._

"_I just wanted to inform you that all your personalities are coming along fine." Happy England said happily, grinning._

_England couldn't help but feel amusement at this personality. A little bit more cheerfulness and he would look like Italy. England did have to wonder why this personality felt so unusual to him._

_As if reading England's thoughts, Happy England explained, "You didn't give yourself many chances to be simply happy, so I never really got the spotlight. A lot of your happiness was based on Smugness, Arrogance and a not very positive Satisfaction."_

_The little nation questioned, "And those are…?"_

"_They're all personalities of yours as well." Happy England laughed and then cocked his head to one side thoughtfully. "When I think about it, I do think those guys are missing. Well, not Satisfied England, he reappeared a while ago. But he's more positive again."_

"_So, wanna meet some of the other guys?" Happy England asked cheerfully and England winced at the personality's words._

"_I don't speak like that at all... so why do you speak so oddly?" England looked at the personality with a raised eyebrow._

"_Err," Happy England looked a little sheepish, another unusual sight. "I guess... some of America rubbed off more on me than any of the other personalities. But don't worry too much, it's not like I'm a dominating personality. I actually get pushed around by the stronger ones."_

"_Who used to be my stronger personalities?" England wondered curiously._

_Happy England became pensive, "Umm... I guess the most dominant ones before we disappeared were Cynical England, Critical England and Grumpy England. Oh, and Hesitant England which is surprising actually, his nature isn't that strong so how he became a dominant personality is still a mystery to me..."_

_The personality continued murmuring under his breath and started to walk away. England followed the personality and suddenly heard hundreds of different voices, all of them sounding strangely alike. Like his own voice._

_England looked around him and became aware of other personalities appearing out of the darkness. Many of them were gathered in small groups, sometimes some would disappear back into the darkness while others would morph their shapes into something else. None seemed to have a truly fixed shape, except if England stared at them real hard. Then they would stop changing, but the moment he looked away he felt them changing into something else._

_He stopped and looked around him in awe. There were so many different forms, so many different personalities of him. And they didn't look identical at all, many seemed to be from varying ages and wearing different clothes._

"_Why are some of them of different ages?" England looked at his happy personality. _

_The personality shrugged cheerfully and said, "Maybe because there were some stages where one of your personalities was the strongest and now they have stayed stuck in the appearance of you when you were a certain age."_

_Suddenly Happy England pointed at something that was behind England's back. "Look, can you see a little England over there? He's about your current size."_

_England turned around and spotted a little England not far from him. This personality was wearing a dark green cloak and had a bow slung over his shoulder. He was approaching another form carefully. The other form looked older and was sitting facing away from the smaller personality, seemingly unaware of the other._

_Happy England explained, "The small England you see there is your curious personality. He was very strong when you were young so he sort of stayed stuck in that form."_

_Curious England approached the unknowing personality and poked him in the back with one of his arrows. The older personality jumped and whipped his head around to glare at the smaller personality and yelled profanities that England could not recognize yet. Curious England chuckled and ran off while the other continued shouting._

"_Who's the other personality?" England questioned, staring at this personality closely. He seemed oddly familiar to him..._

"_That's Irritated England, he's a pretty strong personality of yours as well."_

_England nodded at the answer and started looking around him once more, taking in the various personalities of himself. He then saw that one of his personalities had seen him and had stood up, walking towards England and his happy personality apprehensively. His head was bowed and his hands were visibly shaking. Once he was in front of England, the personality smiled nervously._

"_H-hello England, n-nice to see you a-again." The unknown personality stuttered._

"_You're my nervous personality, right?" England questioned curiously, staring at the jittery personality closely._

_Nervous England gave a quick nod, his uneasy smile twitching. He then turned to Happy England and hissed under his breath, "Is it a good idea for England to be here? There are some dangerous personalities here as well."_

_Happy England laughed and shook his head, "None would actually attempt to harm England. He's safe here."_

"_Not harm him but harm us!" Nervous England squeaked in panic, his whole frame trembling violently with fear._

"_Why would they harm you?" England asked curiously, a bit worried about his nervous personality's obvious distress. _

_His nervous personality shrugged his shoulders helplessly, his hands still trembling as he rubbed one of his arms uneasily. He explained quietly, "You see, there are some personalities of yours who really don't like the other personalities and would rather like to see them… gone. Vanished, obliterated, whatever it takes."_

"_And I take ye're referrin' especially to me, hmm?" A new voice drawled._

_Nervous England completely froze when suddenly a new personality appeared beside him, slinging a careless arm around the poor nervous personality's shoulder. England looked up at the newcomer, taking note of this England's strange but unique clothing. A long red coat with a lot of black and gold, beneath it a simple white shirt, a funny triangular hat, a black eye-patch over his eye…_

_Well, England concluded that this definitely seemed to be one of England's more interesting personalities._

"_What personality do you represent?" England asked curiously as he approached the new personality._

_The personality looked down at England incredulously and snorted loudly, "Ye dare label me as somethin' as lowly as a personality? Honestly England, ye be more careful 'bout who ye insult." A wide grin appeared on his face as he added. "I'm a super-personality!"_

"_A… what?" England narrowed his eyes in confusion as he stared at the other._

_Happy England chuckled, "It simply means that Pirate England here is not one personality but several personalities merged into one. These personalities were so complimentary to each other that once they had all "reappeared" they merged together to make up Pirate England."_

_Nervous England seemed to have recovered from his shock and was slowly trying to inch away from Pirate England's grasp. He muttered resentfully, "This makes him think he is more superior to us and he actually believes he has the right to decide which of us should be dominant or not."_

"_Hmm?" Pirate England sharply turned his attention to Nervous England who jolted as the fiercer personality tightened his grip around him. "Did ye say somethin' Nervous England? I could have sworn I heard somethin' squeakin'." A feral smile appeared on Pirate England's face as he pulled out a dagger from his pocket._

_Nervous England paled as his eyes widened with alarm and he struggled to get out of Pirate England's grasp. Before things could become ugly another personality appeared out of nowhere and pushed Pirate England off of Nervous England. Pirate England stumbled back looking stunned but his expression quickly became disapproving and hostile._

_Standing protectively in front of Nervous England was a personality who seemed rather familiar to England. England looked at him curiously before asking, "Protective England?"_

_The personality looked down at England with a smile and replied, "A part of me is him. But like Pirate England, I'm also a super-personality. I'm often known as Kind England."_

"_And ye be also a disgrace." Pirate England spat moodily._

_Kind England narrowed his eyes as he looked at Pirate England and replied, "There is nothing that I did that is even remotely disgraceful. On the other hand, looking at your past deeds…"_

"_It was yer influence that weakened England!" Pirate England yelled angrily before sniffing disdainfully, "I still can't understand how yer existence is even possible, one would think any weak emotions of England would had been stamped out centuries ago."_

_Nervous England crossed his arms tightly over his chest while he stuttered, "Y-you may think of s-some of us as w-weak but we can be quite h-hardy when n-necessary."_

"_And we can break through the wall of indifference when we're strong enough!" Happy England declared triumphantly, smiling brightly._

_Kind England looked at England and while nodding at Pirate England, he said slyly, "England, why don't you ask him about the eye patch he has. You clearly still have two eyes and as a nation, you would have regrown your eye if you had lost it. And yet Pirate England still has an eye patch."_

_England turned to gaze at Pirate England curiously, realizing that there was logic in Kind England's words. Pirate England didn't really need an eye patch, he probably had a fully functional eye under that patch. So why carry one?_

"_Yeah but that's only because my crew saw me lose my eye in a battle with other pirates and I couldn't really turn up a few days later with a healed eye. So I carried an eye patch to make my crew believe that I had really lost the eye. There's nothing else to it." Pirate England defended himself._

_Kind England raised an eyebrow and smiled knowingly, "And yet many decades after that, after changing your crew a few more times, you still carried the eye patch. You still cared about the memory and the image the crew had of you, even though it was clear that many of them were already dead after so much time had passed. And yet you never removed the eye patch."_

"_Wait a moment, are you insinuating that Pirate England felt nostalgic AND caring?" Happy England looked shocked before he grinned widely at Pirate England, "Hey, didn't you once say nostalgia and caring is something that belongs to the weak?"_

_Pirate England rolled his eyes and muttered, "Alright, so I had a few moments like that, doesn't change a thing honestly."_

_England looked at his two super-personalities closely before questioning, "So I was once a pirate in the past?"_

"_Aye." Pirate England replied, smirking widely at England._

"_What is that exactly?" England asked in confusion._

"_An adventurer!" Pirate England declared smugly, puffing out his chest with pride._

"_Someone who robs and plunders a ship at sea." Kind England corrected sharply. Pirate England seemed to deflate but he quickly regained himself and childishly stuck his tongue out at Kind England._

"_I didn't hurt anyone as a pirate, yes?" England questioned suspiciously._

""_Hurting" would be a bit of an understatement." Kind England mumbled, glaring at Pirate England. _

"_Oi, stop tryin' to make me look bad!" Pirate England defended quickly, scowling at Kind England. The other super-personality sighed and turned to look at England seriously._

"_But don't be bothered by this. Pirate England is certainly a crude and wild aspect of you but that's the role he represents, he represents the untameable spirit of yours."_

"_Ye bet I'm untameable!" Pirate England grinned, his green eyes flashing dangerously._

"_What role do you represent?" England looked at Kind England curiously. The super-personality started in surprise and seemed to redden a little bit in his cheeks. He seemed almost a bit flustered._

_He smiled gently before replying, "I represent the role of an older brother…"_

_England stared at Kind England oddly, wondering why the super-personality had reacted so strangely. Unseen by Kind England, Pirate England was behind the other and was pretending to gag. England barely managed to mask his amusement at the other's display. But Kind England's answer had also sparked an interest in England, he was an older brother? But to whom? Would Kind England know who it was?_

"_Ah those super-personalities, always taking the spotlight away from us." Nervous England sighed, shaking his head. Happy England only smiled and gave the other personality a friendly nudge. _

"_Are there more super-personalities around?" England looked around him, trying to see if any of the other personalities present could be a super-personality. Kind England and Pirate England both started laughing._

"_You can't really tell a personality apart from a super-personality so it would be a bit difficult for you to find one just by looking." Kind England chuckled._

"_Well, isn't there one quite nearby now? I think I felt his presence." Nervous England looked cautiously behind him, trying to spot the elusive super-personality._

"_Where?" Pirate England asked as he looked around. Once he locked his eyes on the super-personality in question, his face darkened as his eyes began to reflect hatred and disgust. He scrunched up his nose, "Ugh, that one be even worse than Kind England even."_

_Pirate England started backing away and abruptly disappeared into the darkness. Kind England frowned after Pirate England, muttering under his breath something about "impolite" and "insulting". But then Kind England turned to look at who Pirate England had seen and seemed to jolt in shock._

_Kind England only managed a small "oh" before he too backed off and disappeared into the darkness. Mystified by both super-personalities' reactions, England searched for the third super-personality that had apparently unnerved the two others so much._

_However England couldn't really spot the super-personality in question, being met by a throng of multiple personalities. None were very distinguishable. _

…_Well, there was maybe one of them who seemed to stand out. One of his personalities was standing alone, excluded from all the others and looking extremely miserable. He seemed to try and approach the other personalities but they moved away from him, ignoring his presence. This personality quickly gave up and walked away._

"_Was that another super-personality or was it just another personality?" England questioned Happy England._

"_Who?" Happy England asked cheerfully._

"_The one who looks really sad?" England pointed towards where the personality in question was heading towards._

_Happy England looked over to the place where England was pointing but the personality was almost gone from view. The happy personality looked serious for a moment before his expression melted back to blissful cheerfulness._

"_I don't really know and I don't wanna know!" Was the personality's blunt answer. England was a bit surprised by the abrupt answer and cringed a little as the personality slipped into a very unnatural, America-like way of talking. _

_He couldn't help but ask, "Why?"_

"_Coz no one can get along with him and we've always rejected him. I have no idea what personality OR super-personality he represents." Happy England didn't seem to care at all about the other, he actually seemed to morph into another personality. _

_Ignorant. Superficial. Those were the words that filled England's mind as he looked at his happy personality in astonishment. Was that maybe the flaws of this personality?_

"_Possibly!" The personality answered happily, hearing England's thoughts once again._

_Well, if his happy personality didn't know who the other personality (or super-personality, who knew?) was, then it was up to England to discover for himself who it was. _

_England took off after the unknown personality, wondering if he would be able to catch up with him. He ran for a bit before he spotted him, thankfully this form was easy to set apart from the others._

_This personality was wearing a red uniform. _

"_Hey, wait!" England called out. The personality stopped and turned around to look at England. Although he seemed slightly surprised, the personality's eyes remained miserable. _

_England skidded to a stop in front of him and asked breathlessly, "Are you a personality or a super-personality? What do you represent?"_

_The personality looked at England sadly, and remained silent for a moment. Then he answered in a quiet tone, "I'm a super-personality."_

"_And you represent…?"_

_The super-personality became thoughtful, looking off into the darkness with pained eyes. After a while the form sighed and shrugged his shoulders weakly, replying, "I don't really know, it's complicated. My existence is based on many things, but I think I mainly represent… England's grief and broken heart."_

_Broken… the word echoed ominously inside England's head. He shivered slightly, not liking the sound of the word at all. Suddenly a strange thought struck England and the small nation looked up at Broken England. (he had no better name for this super-personality as the form didn't present himself like the others had done)_

"_Wouldn't that make you technically my sad personality as well?" England was also made curious by Broken England's description of what he represented. A broken heart? But how could a heart be broken? And why was England's heart broken in the first place?_

_Broken England chuckled humourlessly, "Sad England doesn't like me much, he and the others refuse to accept me as one of theirs."_

"_Why?" England asked perplexed. What had this super-personality done wrong for him to be rejected by the others?_

"_Because you rejected me England. You didn't want to accept me, nor the feelings that I was born of." The super-personality looked at England coldly and walked off without another word. England followed after the super-personality, confused by Broken England's hostile reaction._

_Suddenly an image flashed in England's mind, showing him an older version of himself on his knees in a muddy battlefield, wearing the exact same red uniform that he had seen on Broken England. This England was sobbing, trying desperately to hide his tears and England got a sense of déjà-vu. _

_Of course, he had dreamed about this! Then... was this the grief England had experienced? How his heart had been broken? (England began to wonder whether this was meant to be understood as literally or not) But why had he rejected that super-personality? And why had he felt grief on that day?_

_England stopped walking when he realized that Broken England had disappeared into the darkness. England had lost the miserable super-personality._

"_So, found anything out about him?"_

_The little nation turned around to see that a couple of the personalities had followed him, his happy personality having taken the lead. Happy England smiled brightly as if nothing interesting had happened._

"_I told you, we can't stand him. Neither could you, you rejected the very existence of this aspect of your character."_

_England felt a bit lost in all this. He looked from personality to personality questioningly, wondering why everything had to sound so complicated. He barely could follow since he no longer had the memories he needed to understand. Memories have been coming back to England but many of them were simply based on feelings, none of them actually gave England the information about his past self. He hardly remembered the people he would see in his dreams._

"_Is he gone?"_

_The Brit looked up at the sound of Kind England's wary voice and saw him and Pirate England step out of the darkness cautiously. Though Pirate England quickly seemed to brush his unease off and look like he didn't give a damn about Broken England. England looked at both super-personalities curiously before asking, "Why did both of you disappear when you saw Broken England?"_

"_Broken England…?" Pirate England repeated with a raised eyebrow, sharing a confused look with Kind England._

"_The super-personality you both fled from?" England proposed._

"_Oi, we didn't flee!" Pirate England defended loudly before adding slyly, "At least I didn't." _

_Kind England reacted to the silent insult but decided not to indulge Pirate England in another petty fight and pretended to ignore the other super-personality's statement. With a huff he turned to England and nodded, "I understand who you're referring to, I was just a bit surprised by the name."_

"_Why, does he have another name?" England questioned curiously._

_The super-personality shook his head, "No, I believe he was never named. But I think "Broken England" fits him well, that's really the whole definition of his existence. I dislike him because every memory that I treasure and value, he views them with bitterness and resentfulness. He poisons the very memories that are the dearest to me. I can't stand being near to Broken England for exactly that reason."_

"_And I just don't like him because he's weak and he destroyed what I built." Pirate England declared with sniff but then he shrugged it off and grinned widely at England. Both super-personalities had justified themselves though England wanted to know what Pirate England meant by what he had built and Broken England had destroyed. _

_However something shifted beneath his feet suddenly and England looked around him in alarm. Something had happened and… England suddenly felt dread. A change… something was changing but what? He noticed Happy England step forward, still smiling cheerfully as if nothing mattered in the world. _

"_Don't worry England, there's nothing you have to be worried about. This will probably be the last time you see any of us as a separate entity of you." _

"_Why are you even separated from me in the first place?" England asked tiredly._

"_You're not fully aware of it but you've been trying to separate some things to understand what is going on better. You separated us because you're curious how many of us there are." Another personality shrugged, looking indifferent._

"_But t-there is a l-little p-problem..." Nervous England whispered uneasily. The shifting beneath England's feet increased slightly, a faint rumbling audible in the distance._

"_What problem?" England inquired curiously and yet warily. _

_Kind England explained, "Soon it will be time for both personalities and super-personalities alike to merge together and became a single character again, to become you England. However the trouble is that you and the past England are starting to differ, personalities that were weak in past England have become stronger in you and vice versa. So, you have to choose, go back to who you used to be or move forwards and become a new person."_

"_But how can I go back when I don't even know who I used to be?" England protested._

_Suddenly there was a major shift in the ground that caused England to stagger and the rumbling died down. The personalities in front of England became fainter and fainter and slowly they started being pulled together by an invisible force._

_Kind England and Pirate England both looked at England silently before they walked into each other, effectively merging into one form. This form was then merged with another and England watched in awe as every single personality eventually melted into a single being. _

_England looked at the new form closely and saw how it morphed itself into an older version of himself, of England. This England was no longer a personality, or at least he didn't feel like one. He seemed ghostlike, his body faint and see-through. He was scrutinizing England closely as well, his once-green eyes showing a myriad of several emotions._

_Was England really seeing... his older self? The original England?_

"_Who the hell are you?" The older England demanded suspiciously, staring at the small nation with hard eyes. _

_England frowned, the older England seemed almost accusing him for existing. He opened his mouth and countered, "And who might you be?"_

_The older England looked taken back but then his expression darkened as he frowned. "You have no right to answer a question with a question. I have no idea who the bloody hell you are but I know you shouldn't be here."_

_The small England gaped at this older England, wondering if he was serious. He opened his mouth to protest but before he could get a word out there was a resounding loud snap in the darkness. England froze as he looked in the direction where the snap had come from, from the older England._

_The form had stiffened, his eyes wide and his shoulders rigid. It effectively sounded like something had broken inside the form, as if an invisible force had caused something inside of the older England to snap in two. Something shifted behind the form and suddenly it shot up to tower over the older England. It seemed almost connected like a shadow to the form._

_**Missed me? **__The dark voice snickered sinisterly as it opened its bright green eyes, a twisted feral grin appearing on its face. The dark voice hovered over the form and it stared directly at England._

_England paled in realization and fear as he took a few steps backwards. The dark voice watched England's retreat intently, the crazed gleam never leaving its eyes. It leered ominously, __**England, don't you want to return to who you used to be? You're going in the wrong direction, come towards me.**_

"_Never!" England spat defensively, trying his best to mask his fear from the dark voice._

_**Don't be so difficult, are you even aware what you're doing? Are you refusing to become what you used to be? All you need to do is walk to this England and merge with him. Then you'll know all the answers to your questions. **__The dark voice looked downwards at the older England who still stood frozen. _

_Though England dearly wished to have his questions answered, he sincerely was doubtful he would find them by going towards the dark voice. Staring at the older England carefully, England noticed how lifeless and soulless the eyes of the form had become. _

_However he jumped back when a strange light lighted up behind the past England's eyes. The form blinked slowly as he moved his head to gaze at England. England took another few steps back, he knew this was not the past England. The eyes still seemed empty though now a bright green light was emanating from them. The older England smiled emotionlessly as he spread out his arms wide, inviting England to come towards him._

_England frowned and looked upwards and saw that the dark voice had sunk its hands into the form's empty shell of a body, controlling the movements of the older England just like a puppet. __**"Come now England, become me again. Don't stray away from the correct path." **__Older England's voice echoed in the darkness, the tone sweet and warm. _

_But it wasn't England's true voice._

"_No." England replied simply but remained in his place, looking at the dark voice challengingly. He knew that the dark voice was controlling the older England, that it was trying to trick him. But he wouldn't fall for such a simple trick._

_**Seems like I will have to be more CONVINCING than I already am. **__The dark voice sneered as it ordered the body of the older England to step closer to England. England's heart hammered in fear but he was not backing down, he was going to face the dark voice and show it that he was not going to be controlled._

_Suddenly he heard a click behind him and England whirled around to see who had snuck up behind him. It was Broken England who was pointing a musket at the dark voice. The super-personality was glaring coldly at the dark voice, growling lowly, "Release England right now!"_

_The dark voice blinked and started to laugh mockingly. __**Are you going to shoot me? Can you shoot me at all? Or will you shoot me like you shot your beloved… your treasure… your brother…? You're such a pathetic weakling.**_

_Broken England snarled fiercely, "What I did or didn't do in the past doesn't matter anymore. So you shut up you little piece of sh-"_

_Before Broken England could finish his sentence, the controlled older England suddenly launched himself at the current England, grabbing the small nation by his throat and pushing him roughly to the ground. England let out a small cry of shock and he caught a brief glance of the dark voice attacking Broken England, wrapping itself tightly around the musket and the super-personality's waist as it attempted to possess the other._

_Then England was forced to stare in the empty green eyes of the older England. "__**Return to me England, become the original again. You are nothing, you are nothing like the original. There can be only one England and that's the original. You aren't the original, come back to me…"**_

_Just at that moment, a memory hole opened itself beneath England, pulling him into it and away from the older England. England was thankful for its timing, it couldn't have come at a better time. _

_But England was perturbed by the words of the older England. It was true, he wasn't the original England. But if the older England was the original version… _

_Then, what was he?_

* * *

_When he landed in his memory, England was excessively glad to see that there wasn't a battle going on. A good majority of his dreams always had a battle in them and England had come to detest them as they frightened him. Now and again there were dreams that were calmer but England barely remembered those._

_England looked around him and noted that the landscape he found himself in was very beautiful. A whole prairie stretched in front of him endlessly, going as far as the horizon. The sky was a striking blue, almost cloudless._

_The little nation became aware of voices. Two voices to be exact. And one of them sounded like his. He turned around and saw an older England, an exact replica of Kind England, standing not far from him. The nation seemed to be talking to a small blue-eyed boy._

_It was odd, usually England saw his memories from his own point of view but this time he could clearly see his older self. Or had that been the case before? England wasn't too sure but it worried him slightly. Was he starting to view the memories from his point of view and no longer from the point of view of the original England? What did that tell him about himself? Was he starting to separate from the original?_

"_Well... I'm glad that I met you, too. You grow up pretty fast, don't you?" The elder nation was telling the small boy, smiling gently. The boy, probably a nation as well, was staring at him curiously with a friendly smile._

_Then older England declared vigorously, "Alright, I'll get straight to the point! From this day on, you're my little brother!"_

_The little blue-eyed boy nodded enthusiastically, "Okay. Then can I call you "Bro"?"_

_Old England seemed taken aback by the question. He looked at the young boy and his eyes seem to faze, going back to memories that England currently couldn't remember. England wondered why his older self seemed so taken aback by the question. And who was that little boy?_

* * *

England woke up with a start, not allowing him to see how the memory continued. It was odd, this was the first time he saw another person in his dream that he could remember his face. The boy's face stayed clear in England's head.

The little nation wondered who the boy was and what had become of him.

And also the dream with his personalities was odd and honestly quite frightening. He was really starting to hate the dark voice, it seemed to like complicating things and making England's life more difficult. England was starting to wonder where the line between reality and nightmare was in those dreams, how real could he assume them to be? He supposedly met what could possibly have been originally England before... before what? What had happened for that England to "disappear" and to be replaced by him?

Something had happened, England was convinced of that. No matter how unrealistic his dreams about his personalities were or how impossible it was to talk with the past England, the current England was more and more convinced that something had happened to him. And he knew that the other nations were aware of what had happened but for one reason or another no one wanted to tell him. England clenched his hands in determination.

Still, he could go and ask France. Maybe by asking persistently one of the nations would finally relent and tell England everything.

He jumped out of his bed nimbly and made his way out of the bedroom. England peeked outside of the door, keeping a keen ear for any sound. He faintly heard movement downstairs, France was apparently still up.

England walked down the stairs but stopped when he became aware of the low murmurs. The island nation looked through the railings to watch France in the living room, who was talking on the phone in a low voice.

"Allez Pays des Galles, how long should we keep this going? Angleterre is already getting suspicious enough, he might guess it before any of us tells him." France insisted in a persuasive voice, trying to convince the other on the other side of the line.

Who the hell was "Pays des Galles"? England had understood that "Angleterre" meant "England" in French but he had no idea who "Pays des Galles" was.

However England was more curious about France's words. "What" were they keeping from him? It was definitely the solid confirmation that something HAD happened however England was still without answers. It would be interesting to learn more so England decided to stay in his place and listen in on the conversation.

France sighed after a moment and explained, "I tried explaining to Angleterre about him being part of Europe but it didn't go the way I wanted." If England listened closely enough he could hear the other voice from the phone but it was too faint for him to make out exactly who it was or what they were saying.

"Oui, oui, I shouldn't have done that, I've learned my lesson now." France ran a hand through his hair tiredly, the other person chattering in an irritated manner. The other seemed to be angry with France.

The French cut the other off with a question, "Pays des Galles, when are Angleterre's wings supposed to fade away?"

England stiffened at the question. He looked back to check on his wings, which were tucked close to his body. He rather liked them now, he didn't want to lose them.

France made noises of affirmation as the other nation seemed to shoot inquiries at him. Finally France murmured, "Ah, so I should clip them?"

Clip them? What did "clip" mean? A feeling of dread washed over England. Whatever it was, England had no intention to allow France near his wings!

"D'accord, I'll try that. But serieusement, what am I to do when Angleterre asks me about his past memories? He told me that he doesn't remember the faces of the people in his dreams but that is bound to happen soon. And sooner or later he will be confronted with memories that are painful to him but he won't understand them fully."

The elder nation fell silent for a while, listening to what the other on the phone was telling him. England tried his best to catch even snippets of the conversation but he was too far away. He saw France nod thoughtfully now and again.

"Hmm, I'm not really sure if this is a good idea. Angleterre is not some stupid child, he's very observant. Even more than I expected. He knows that something happened and he also is aware that we aren't telling him anything about it. He might become hostile towards us..."

England blinked in surprise. France was also observant, he wasn't making the mistake of seeing England as a child. But then why wasn't he willing to tell England what had happened? He was really getting frustrated by the other nations.

"Alright, I guess only time can really tell us what will happen to Angleterre." France said resignedly, shaking his head slowly. "I'll be seeing you again soon Pays des Galles. Don't worry, I'll be careful around Angleterre. Au revoir."

France hung up and put the phone back in its place. England figured he wouldn't find out anything new. Not that he had discovered anything ground-breaking, except a confirmation that the nations were working behind England's back. And it seemed to originate from this "Pays des Galles".

Japan and China had mentioned Wales... so was he "Pays des Galles"? If so... why was his brother keeping the truth away from him? And why were the others going along with him?

Footsteps downstairs made England aware that he was still hiding and that France might come upstairs and find England here. Very quietly England snuck back to his room and pushed his door shut silently.

As he crawled back into the bed England wondered for the umpteenth time why he wasn't being told the truth. Thankfully sleep claimed him quickly enough but his sleep was anything but peaceful.

* * *

A/N

Alright, I think I'll start putting this title-thingy here to mark clearly when a chapter has ended. I don't know if it has caused anyone confusion in the past but now you will no longer have this trouble.

Now, everyone is glad that England wasn't too badly hurt, right? Sure, a bullet did hit him and he fell into a creek... but otherwise he is still in one piece. Due to the enormous amount of French spoken by the hunters and France, I put the translations immediately next to them to help you guys. No fun going up and down continously for translations, eh?

And holy sh*t, we have a kind of cliffhanger again! Will France clip England's wings to stop the Brit from flying? You all know by now his way of thinking but will he actually do it? Now have a really bad sense of foreboding! :D I'm so evil... but once again I want to see what you people guess I will do. I love writing surprising twists! ^^;

Oh yeah, this will be the last time you see the personalities. They made a spectacular leave, right? XD Sadly the dark voice had to go and ruin everything. :( I've had a few people say that they missed the dark voice and wondered when it would turn up again. Wut? People are actually drawn to the dark voice? Well, I can't really blame you guys, I myself am a bit fascinated by it. It originally wasn't supposed to even appear in this chapter but it seems like the dark voice had other plans and just sneaked its way in. Oh, and don't worry you guys, the "old" England hasn't returned into England's mind. That's just very unlikely and I don't actually want the current England and the past England to fight each other to death. I'm just expressing England's worry and my worry over how England will return to the character we all know him to be. It's unrealistic to fully revert him to what he used to be because that would be completely ignoring all the things he has learned until now. I just hope as England recovers that people won't say he's too OOC. I'll really try my best to keep him as IC as possible... For those who are a bit confused, the older England is more or less a mash-up of what England has been able to regain from the few memories that he has. Something like those holograms that you find in sci-fi stories where people record themselves to speak with others in the far future when they might be already dead. So you know, a spark of the past. But it's not the real past England. That consciousness has sadly died with England's memory loss. Whether it resurrects or not remains a difficult debate for me.

A lot of people seemed to love the idea of bringing Pirate England in with the other personalities so I wrote him in. But then I tried figuring out what personality he represents and I realized that Pirate England is TOO complex to be a single personality. So I created the word "super-personality" to refer to the fact that he is built on several personalities. He represents a few things, like England's agressiveness, dominance, empire and unbreakable spirit and loads more. Even Mischievous England and Possessive England might have merged with Pirate England. I found him quite difficult to write, I can't write pirate speech! D: I even used some pirate translators to make him sound remotely piraty. You all know who Kind England is, you've seen him when he first talked to America and said he was going to be his big brother from now on. I tried not to make him sound OOC but with Pirate England's influence removed, Kind England simply is a softer character. There's not a lot of malice in him. I was sorely tempted to call Broken England "Revolutionary England" because that is him after all but I knew there was no way England would know about the revolution in this sense. He felt the emotions of the memory but he has no knowledge of the memory itself, remember? So, it had to be "Broken England" I guess. I would imagine that England would have rejected Broken England in the past because it is an aspect of him he would have regarded as weak. Thus the reason why the personalities and super-personalities don't like Broken England.

Now, I've been quite thoughtful lately and there are two things I wanna share with you guys, to see what you think about this. Firstly, England's last name "Kirkland". Alright, if anyone has looked up the meaning of "Kirk", it means "church". Now looking at the name, I noticed that Kirkland and Churchhill are very similar. Kirk = Church. Land = Hill. Extremely similar. Now Churchhill is known to have been a strong supporter of the Special Relationship, a.k.a USxUK, as far as I've seen from fanart and fanfiction. So we've got another USxUK hint there! ^^ I don't know if Himaruya did this purposefully, it seems almost too perfectly planned. I haven't seen anyone mention this revelation before so I just thought about sharing it with you guys. And from the April Fools event, no one has yet pointed out that teddy bears are an American invention thus it is a bit of a double USXUK hint along with America turning up with bear ears. Sorry if someone else has already pointed this out, I just haven't seen anyone mention it yet.

The second point now. Okay, how many of you like Englandcest fanfics? Let me ask you this curious question that I noticed when reading some Englandcest stories. England is quite often made the uke in M-rated stories. (which I fully support, not much of an UKxUS fan) However, if it is Pirate England, there is a 95-100% chance he will top the other character. Now, can anybody explain to me then why Pirate England constantly bottoms to England in Englandcest fics? Englandcest stories are already quite rare and a popular choice of one of the Englands is usually Pirate England. (the other England tends to be normal England but I've seen Revolutionary England as well. And in one story Rev topped Pirate. Huh?) I just can't understand why the England who hardly ever bottoms to other characters gets so easily dominated by the England who is the most likely to be topped by the other characters. Even pixiv seems to support this idea. Why? O_o I sometimes wish for the opposite, that Pirate tops Normal more and that sometimes another character manages to top Pirate. I have really strange tastes people, deal with it.

Ah well, hope you enjoyed this chapter and expect the next one in... two weeks maybe? Yeah, proabably. ^^ (this A/N was also long again... *sigh*)


	27. Chapter 27

Hey, sorry for not posting the new chapter yesterday. The chapter was finished and all and I was prepared to post it but... I got into a fight with my father because he was bullying me into praying that he and my mother have to stay together and I refused to pray for something I didn't want to happen and he suddenly went, "Oh, so if you think my marriage to your mother was a mistake then you and your sister are also a mistake." I don't know how much I cried but I hid in the attic for a good part of the day, felt suicidal and considered overdosing on sleeping pills, possibly went into a psychotic phase (because for a while the shit that came out of my mouth made no sense), I went into an emotional shutdown, fell asleep at 4 in the afternoon, woke up at 10.30 in the night, fell asleep again...

Well, all in all, a shitty Sunday and a dizzy Monday. I feel sick but I still need to study for 4 exams, my father is on his knees trying to be forgiven (why should I forgive him again...?) and I'm emotionally drained. I can't understand how I still find the will to write under these conditions but strangely enough I can. I guess the story and you readers keeps me afloat.

Whatever, enjoy the chapter.

EDIT: Just trying to be a bit more upbeat (because I sounded really morose in the morning, but I bounced back now) my school (specifically my classmates) did a lipdub! :D If you wanna see all the work they put into it and just how big and crazy my school is, go look on youtube: http2:/2www.2youtube.2com/2watch?v=QY0q6v6P2Hk (remove the 2s in the strange places) or simpler, just type "Lipdub EEB1 2011" in the youtube search bar. The first video that pops up is the right one. There's a guy who appears in a Greek military uniform and we have tons of flag-worshppers. O_O It gives my school a really Hetalia-like feeling and I can confirm that the flags you see waved around by some of the people actually represents their nationality. Try seeing how many different flags you can find. The project was started by two French students many months ago so it may seem that French is the dominant language in my school but it actually co-dominates with English and German. But French appears a lot in the beginning of the video but the songs they use after are all in English.

We annoyed some of the younger students of our school coz now they have to come up with something super special to beat our lipdub. XD So many are grumbling about how they're going to try and best our lipdub. One of the personnels of the school even said in the video that he has worked in this school for 29 years and he never saw something like this of the sort. It was completely arranged by students. (alas I'm not in the video. I was there on the day they filmed this but I was going home and I'm camera shy anyway. But I'm very proud of my school X3)

* * *

Chapter 27

"Angleterre?"

France looked in every single room of his house until he found the elusive island nation hiding upstairs in his attic. England was curled in the far back corner and when France came in the little nation glared at him angrily.

When the French nation carefully approached England, the younger nation hissed venomously, "Stay away from me!"

Looking at England sadly, France said quietly, "Angleterre, I didn't want to hurt you. But you left me no choice with all the struggle you were putting up. And look what you did to my hand."

England glared at France's hand, which had been badly scratched by said nation. He felt absolute no sympathy and he pulled his knees closer to his chest defensively, looking away from France.

Suddenly he spat, "It's your own fault, you shouldn't have tried to stop me from flying!" England looked at one of his wings angrily, the feathers "trimmed" to a point that England couldn't fly anymore. France had used a scissor on the feathers and now his wings felt uncomfortable to him.

"I didn't do it to stop you from flying, your brother told me that this was the surest way to make sure that the wings will disappear." France tried explaining reasonably, trying to calm England down.

"And what if I didn't want my wings to disappear?" England snapped, feeling his eyes tear up a bit in frustration.

"Please don't be like this Angleterre. Do you want to get shot down by hunters again?" France paused to allow the question to sink in. England paled at the question, such thought having not occurred to him. France added, "I was just doing it for your own good."

The smaller nation's expression darkened at those words. His hands gripped his knees and his shoulders went rigid. "For my own good? Lately a lot of nations have been doing that but I don't really see how all this is for my own good. You expect me to accept things simply because you said so and yet you don't explain anything to me. I don't know what happened and none of you want to explain it to me. I'm lost and confused most of the time now."He looked up to France and burst out angrily, "How is this supposed to be for my own good? Tell me!"

But France remained silent, looking at England helplessly. He had no answer. England's green eyes flashed furiously at the older nation's inability to justify his actions. If there was no answer why did England have to remain clueless?

England huffed in frustration and turned in his corner to face away from France. He couldn't stand the sight of the Frenchman. There was a burning emotion inside England that he couldn't identify but it was causing his throat to constrict painfully. He felt like lashing out and hurting France.

**That French bastard deserves to have his nose broken!**

The little nation blinked in shock. Where had that dark thought come from? Had he just thought that himself? England couldn't believe it...

He then heard the French nation sigh heavily. "S'il te plait Angleterre, don't fill yourself with such hatred towards the world again. It's what brought about your downfall."

England jolted at those words and gave France a side-glance. Did France just tell him something about the original England?

France extended towards England a red flower that seemed to have literally appeared out of nowhere. (How did he do that?)France asked, "Do you remember this flower?" England shook his head but was slightly intrigued by the flower. It was really beautiful with those vibrant red petals.

"It's a rose, in actual fact it's your national flower. Your people really like this flower." France looked at the rose, twirling it in his hand. "Although it's really beautiful, many people often get stung by its thorns. It takes a lot of care to be able to hold a rose without getting stung."

The French nation then looked squarely into England's eyes. "You're like the rose Angleterre. You're very beautiful but you were so thorny that many nations couldn't approach you without being stung by your thorns. I myself got more than my share of stings."

"Why was I so thorny?" England mumbled quietly, still staring at the rose. Now he could see the deceptive thorns on the rose's stem and the way France was carefully holding the rose to avoid the thorns.

France shrugged. "It was your nature, your way of protecting yourself. You kept other nations away like that but in the end you started feeling lonely and you wanted to be with the others. However, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't give up your way of being around the other nations. You then filled yourself with hatred towards the world and also towards yourself."

England thought this new piece of information over. _Was the old England really that hateful?_ So the feeling inside him was hatred? England frowned and pushed the feeling away. He didn't like it but apparently his older self had been full of it.

He noticed that France was waiting for his response. When he looked at France closely he could see some uneasiness in those blue eyes. _France had volunteered something he shouldn't have._ The realization hit England. Yes, he had said on the phone the previous night that he would be careful around England with talking about his past.

Without breaking the eye-contact, England said slowly, "I... don't want to feel hatred. I don't like it. I just don't like you right now. You didn't respect my answer when I told you to leave my wings alone."

When he saw France open his mouth to protest England quickly continued. "Don't try to explain to me your reasons France. I would like you to just leave me alone. I want to be alone now."

France seemed like he wanted to say something else but he remained silent. He lay the rose on the ground beside England and he stood up. "Angleterre, I apologize for being so forceful with you. I hope you can find it in you to forgive my actions." France's voice sounded tired, bitter and resigned.

"Forgive?" England was sure he had heard that word somewhere before. But where?

"Yes, me pardoner. To forgive me. Not that you ever willingly did so." France sighed again and walked off dejectedly. England stared after France, for a moment unsure whether he should feel sympathy for France or not.

Well, he was hurt that France had clipped his wings against his will. Even though England had said no France had not respected his answer and had proceeded to pin the smaller nation to clip the feathers of his wings. _But your wings are not the heart of the issue. It's really all about your freedom to make your own decisions. _England extended a wing and stared at the fringed edges of the feathers. Yes, the whole problem was that the nations were doing things for England's sake but no one was bothering to explain to him their reasons. Why?

England's gaze fell on the rose that France had left behind. He curiously reached forward for the rose and grasped it. He suddenly yelped and let go of the rose.

"Ouch!" The cry jumped out of England's throat, catching the little nation in surprise. But that really hurt! England had completely forgotten about the thorns, his interest captivated by the beauty of the flower. Was he really like that rose?

The island nation stared at his hand. It was bleeding slightly but the tiny wounds quickly sealed off and all traces of them disappeared. England turned his attention back to the rose, staring at it intently. Why did the rose need thorns? To protect itself?

England frowned and picked the rose up, this time taking care to avoid being pricked by the thorns again. The flower was really beautiful, England had to admit that. And the rose was his national flower? He wondered what the other nations had as their national flower…

* * *

_Darkness stretched before the Brit's eyes._

_England blinked in astonishment. When had he fallen asleep? He usually only saw this place after having fallen asleep and shortly before being led into a memory. _

_But honestly, England couldn't remember when he had closed his eyes and fallen asleep. Maybe he had just slipped off..._

_A tired and cracked voice spoke behind England. "What do you want?"_

_England quickly tried to turn around but he found himself... trapped. England looked around, attempting to see what was blocking him. Slowly rope-like structures started appearing from the darkness, showing to England how some of them had wrapped around England's waist and one of his arms and how some others stood tall over him and curled inwards overhead, forming a cage. England was caged?_

_After some struggling, he managed to turn around to see who had spoken to him. The "ropes" around England had held on tightly, ripping into his clothes. _

_Before him was another England. Not a personality, but it didn't seem to be his older self either. He looked significantly older than England and seemed to be in a cage-like object as well. The only difference was more ropes were wrapped tightly around this England, making it impossible for him to move._

"_Who are you?" England blurted out, staring at the older copy of himself worriedly. There were so many ropes around him..._

"_Who do you make me to be?" The copy countered wearily, his green eyes dull._

"_Well, you're not one of my personalities and you don't look like the original England..."_

"_Then you don't know what I am." The older version finished monotonously and continued looking at England. _

_After a while curiosity got the better of England and he asked, "Why are there so many ropes around you?"_

"_Ropes?" The other England looked, ever so slightly, mildly surprised. "Do you really think those are ropes? Look closer England."_

_England look at the ropes wrapped around him and realized that they weren't ropes. They looked like... vines. He then became aware of red flowers growing around him. Roses? Those were vine roses?_

_No wonder they clung so tightly to him, the thorns were digging into the fabric of the clothes that England was wearing. But he had compared to the older copy not many vines. So, how bad was it for the other? They seemed wrapped a lot more tightly around him._

_Having seemingly heard England's thoughts the older version smiled bitterly. "Don't worry, I got used to the pain. I just don't move anymore."_

"_But..." England stared at the vines wrapped around the older England. They weren't digging into the clothes, the clothes had been completely shredded to pieces. The thorns were digging into the skin, in some places blood was oozing out._

_The vines had really wrapped themselves all over the older England. They were around his arms, legs, waist, chest and had even wrapped around his neck and forehead. Blood was slowly dripping down older England's forehead. _

_The older England was smiling at England with a grim and pained smile. The thorns were really digging deep into him. Appalled, England only managed to whisper, "How could you allow the vines to grow so closely around you? Why didn't you stop them?"_

"_Stop them?" The other copy snorted. "Since the very beginning I used them to protect myself. You don't understand England, I had to protect myself from the others or else I would get badly hurt."_

"_Others? Who are those others?" England demanded, not able to comprehend the other England's reasons for having allowed the vines to sink their "claws" deep into him._

"_I didn't allow them, England." The copy answered England's thought, pointedly avoiding answering his verbal question. "It simply happened. I grew up, protected by these vines and I didn't notice how entangled I was with them until I tried to move, tried to do something new. And now no matter how hard I try, I can't get out of them. The protective thorns have turned on me, but I suppose I deserve that."_

_Anger flared up in England as he protested, "How am I... no... are you supposed to have deserved this? Why don't you break the vines, free yourself from them!" _

"_Free myself?" The older England scoffed. "And do what? What is there left to do, when there's... nothing. There's nothing left for me. How am I even supposed to free myself of the vines when they just keep going deeper into my being?"_

_England searched for a solution and briefly looked around his cage and at the vines that had wrapped themselves around his waist and one of his arms. He frowned angrily and started tugging at the vines around his arm. _

_Though the thorns pricked and scratched at England's palm and fingers, England continued trying to untangle himself from the vines. After a lot of struggling he managed to loosen the vines and free his arm from their grips. The older England remained silent, looking at England with slight curiously though his eyes remained dull._

_He turned his attention to the vines around his waist and with green eyes aflame with determination, he began working on those vines. But these were thicker and the thorns were deeply embedded in England's clothes. _

_As hard as England struggled against them, all he managed to do was entangle himself even more and his hands got bloody from the number of times the thorns pricked his skin. His hands were starting to hurt and England had to stop, completely winded by his struggles._

"_Why don't you give up?" _

_England gaped at the older version of England, his eyes wide in disbelief. The copy was staring at him tiredly, and made a tiny shrug. The action earned him a few of the thorns to sink into his neck, drawing some blood. The precious liquid trickled slowly down the copy's throat, leaving red lines behind. Apart from a small wince of pain the older England made no other move._

_He looked at England and saw the expression of disbelief on his face. He questioned tiredly, "What? I gave up a long time ago. I don't want to get out anymore and I suggest you do the same. It's clear that you can't free yourself of them either, you'll only get hurt more."_

"_No way!" England snapped, his eyes flashing. "Why stay here and do nothing anymore? Why allow those stupid vines to choke me like they did to you? I want to be free, I want to be MYSELF!"_

"_And how are you going to manage that? You can't even free yourself of these vines." The older England muttered tonelessly, raising an eyebrow at England._

_England grew silent and sunk into his thoughts. How was he supposed to free himself? It was out of question that he was going to allow these vines to surround him and destroy his spirit as they had apparently done to the other England. If only there those thorns weren't there..._

_...yes._

_The little nation looked at the other England defiantly in the eyes and declared loudly, "I will remove the thorns. All of them, even if it takes me a long time. Then I'll pull and pull at the vines until they break."_

_"Then I'll be free."_

* * *

The light of the day had considerably dimmed when England opened his eyes to find himself in the attic once again. Had he really fallen asleep? The dream had seemed... very real to him even though England was convinced that it had been only that: a dream.

But what an odd one at that. The rose vines around the other England and himself... England looked at the rose that still lay on the floor beside him. His own words from the dream resonated in his mind. _Remove the thorns..._

England picked the rose up carefully and studied its thorns. There really were a lot of them, England wondered how he was supposed to remove the thorns from his "cage" in his dream.

...Wait.

The cage in his dream wasn't real. England wasn't supposed to look at the cage as something physical. It was symbolic.

_You're like the rose Angleterre..._

The rose. According to France, England acted like the rose, having its thorns out to ward off anyone who wanted to approach him. He stung those who weren't careful and forced the others to handle England very carefully so as to avoid getting pricked by his thorns.

But what acted like a shield from others also acted like a cage for England. The thorns no longer protected him, they had condemned him. England didn't fully understand what he exactly did with his thorns towards the others but it certainly wasn't any good. Should he ask France about what he did exactly to keep the others away?

The thorns were definitely metaphors, the little nation understood that what France meant by "his thorns" was not to be taken literally. England stared at the rose and started scratching at the base of one of the thorns. The thorn itself was tough, but at the base the skin softened.

He easily dug into the thorn from under the base and pulled the thorn off the rose. The thorn left behind a light green spot but other than that the area was free of the thorn.

England turned his attention to the other thorns of the rose. One by one, England started removing the thorns of the rose.

These thorns would never again prick someone.

* * *

France opened his eyes slowly, yawning widely as he tried getting rid of the sleepiness in his eyes. There was a slight cramp in his neck, the French nation had fallen asleep at his desk after all. Not the most comfortable place to sleep but he must have been tired if he had nodded off so easily.

The nation sat up and stretched his arms, rubbing at the sore spot of his neck slowly. France realized he must have been asleep for quite some hours since he could see nothing but darkness.

Night had already fallen.

Sighing, France leaned forward and switched on the desk lamp. The light quickly filled the room and France set his eyes on something that truthfully surprised him. On the couch across from France's desk lay England, curled up and fast asleep.

He then became aware of a sheet of paper in front of him. On the paper was the rose and a pile of... thorns? France picked up the rose in surprise and discovered that every single thorn had been torn off the flower.

France turned his attention to what was written on the paper. England had written in very shaky letters:

_I am still angry with you. But I don't want hate and I don't want thorns. So I took them off the rose. I will try to do the same to myself._

This little letter quite surprised France. He hadn't expected England to start writing anytime soon and though the attempt was shaky, England had actually managed to write! France smiled happily at that.

But he grew serious as he reread the content of the note. England wanted to stop being like his roses? Had what France said left such an impression on the island nation? He stared at the thornless rose and he chuckled lightly. Was England trying to be philosophical? And France thought that was Greece's job.

It did make the Frenchman happy to see England so willing to improve himself. But could he do it? Would England fall back into the same steps of a grumpy nation or was he capable of going into a new direction?

France stood up and walked quietly over to the slumbering nation. Deciding England was better off in his own bed, France picked the nation up and started walking to England's room.

The wings of England were limp, dragging lightly on the floor. They had lost the vibrant white that they had exhibited hours before, they had become a greyish white. France supposed that with the wings clipped, the magic was slowly losing its effect on the wings. They would soon disappear, just as Wales had said.

He did regret for having forced England to have his wings clipped, France had been at an unfair advantage. He was a lot bigger and a lot stronger than England, especially in the state England was now.

And yet France couldn't deny that it was better for England to be rid of the wings. Who ever heard of a nation with wings? Anyway, England would have also stood out and wouldn't have been able to safely go out among the humans.

...That was part of the reason. The other part was that with wings, England would have been impossible to control. If he didn't want to listen to someone, he could just take off and stay high up in the sky and pretend to not hear the other. England had demonstrated that very well before the hunters had shot him down.

France sighed and shook his head. England frowned in his sleep, made a little sound in his throat and clenched his fists. Another nightmare? France stared at England silently, his gaze sympathetic.

He bent down and kissed England softly on his forehead.

* * *

*hides from the enraged FrUK and France fans* I am not demonizing France, calm down. He did something that we might view as mean and unfair but it wasn't entirely wrong. Could England have returned back to normal with those wings? Given, France would have been better off trying to reason with England and convincing the other that it was for the best. But France is who he is, he does things the way he thinks is right. And his relationship to England is strained once again. I obviously avoided writing the actual scene where France clipped England's wings because I didn't think it was necessary. You guys got a pretty good image of what happened. It was also kind of a stylistic attempt of retelling past events.

Though the personalities might be gone, there are still a few things going on inside England. For one, the dark voice is still around as shown when England felt like hurting France. We also have the Caged England but he will maybe appear one more time in the end, he won't influence the plot much. I once got the idea of England being entangled by his own roses when I was daydreaming and I wanted to write it into the story. At first it was a battle between roses or chains but eventually roses won. Also you guys will start seeing more memories belonging to England in future chapters.

Warning for the next chapter: the crisis point will occur there. Yeah, you know, the crisis point I've been preparing you all for? It's coming soon. I've been spiralling downwards for some time but now I will plunge deeper. A change of who takes care of England, a few interesting conversations, a sort-of fight... you'll see.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter despite it's shortness. See you perhaps next week.


	28. Chapter 28

Sorry for a yet again day-late chapter. I really tried to post the chapter yesterday but was held up by multiple stuff such as my mother's birthday and preparing for my first ever oral exam which I took today. My mother's birthday went rather well even though due to her neutrality to her birthday, we never know what to get for her as presents. So I drew her a comic-like card and she loved it, not because of the colouring but because of the message I had put in my card. I knew that my card was effort-wise not the best but the message in it was from the heart and that counts for a lot. My sister made dinner and I helped because she was really stressed about not managing to do everything in time. But we managed and my sister even made a cake for my mother and put two candles on it because my mother doesn't like talking about her real age. But neither did I nor my sister ever expect my mother to get teary-eyed at the cake. You know why she almost cried? Because this was the first time ever she got a cake with candles. Seriously, this was the first time and she's over 50, that much I can tell. O_o I know my grandmother isn't big on birthdays but honestly, couldn't she have bothered with a cake with candles for her only daughter? (and only child) They weren't that poor, my grandmother owns a whole apartment block and her husband was a butcher. I'm pretty sure they weren't short on money... but who really cares now, my mother finally got her cake with candles! :D

The oral exam went alright, maybe even excellently. But have you ever been this nervous where you feel your heart literally beating it's way out of your chest and you can barely breath and you're completely jittery? Well, I had that. ^^; It must have been very obvious to my two examiners that I was stressed as hell. At least one of them was my teacher which I was familiar with and she asked me first to read part of the text that I got and then summarise it. After that it was just conversation and by then I had relaxed and started talking naturally. The external examiner looked really surprised and pleased because it was an Irish exam and I'm the only student from the class that studies Irish. He even said he had never heard a young adult like me speak Irish so fluently which made me quite happy. So first oral exam went well, 6 exams down and 3 more to go! :D

Now, to this chapter there is a **WARNING!** Every time time I type warning, I want you guys to take it very seriously. Now, as I mentioned last chapter, this chapter will be the first part of the crisis point. You heard me right, the first part. Romano will be involved in this and I'm asking you guys not to take offence with what I am going to do with him. I needed a resentful character who would be in some way relatively familiar with England and would have a "justified" reason with what will happen. Romano fit the role so I took him in. But I don't want to have people at my throat for demonizing Romano and neither do I want people to think I am bashing on him. So we're all clear on that, alright? Thanks for reading and be on your guards.

* * *

Chapter 28

England opened his green eyes as the morning sun's rays pooled into his room, awakened by the gradually growing brightness. He noticed that he was tucked in his own bed. France must have woken up during the night and brought England to  
his room.

The Brit pouted slightly. He could take care of himself perfectly fine, thank you very much. He didn't need to be carried around like a helpless little child. England had decided to sleep on the couch, and he hadn't needed nor asked France to carry him to his bed instead.

England's problems with France were hardly his only frustration, however. He might have been regaining his full mental ability, but his body didn't seem to want to cooperate. He hadn't grown a centimeter since…the beginning of July, and it was already the middle of October and nearing November. It might not have felt like it, but autumn was upon the land. Months had passed, and England's body was still not growing.

Frowning at this growing issue, England sat up. He gasped loudly as a jolt of pain ran down from his shoulder blade. England looked behind him to look at his wings closely. Over the night the wings had grown greyer, all traces of white were now gone.

But why did they hurt him? England tried flexing a wing but got no response from it. The wings had become unresponsive, instead of staying folded to England's back as usual they hung limply. England grimaced as another jolt of pain shot down his spine from his shoulder blade.

He actually didn't seem to feel any pain from the wings themselves. It was the connection between the wings and the shoulders that the pain was coming from. England carefully slipped out of the bed and went off in search of France. Maybe he knew what to do against the pain, since he had been the one to clip his wings after all.

England didn't know how long he had slept but he could guess that it was around midday by now. So his nightmares from the previous night hadn't woken him up at all? Stopping beside a large mirror (this house was filled with them) England inspected himself.

There, a scar that hadn't been there before! Okay, it was just a tiny insignificant scar on his neck. Still, England was surprised that he hadn't been woken up by his nightmares. That didn't happen a lot usually, nightmares had become an inevitable visitor during many of his nights and they eventually would wake him up.

The little nation heard France downstairs talking animatedly to someone else. England cocked his head to one side and listened for the other's voice. All he could be sure of is that the other was a girl, otherwise he could not recognize the voice of the other.

Curiosity getting the better of him, England made his way down the stairs, his wings trailing lifelessly behind him. England approached the living room to see who France was talking to. On the couch he could see France sitting beside a blonde girl who was carrying a blue headband.

The Brit caught a part of the conversation. France was saying, "So, you can imagine what I told my boss of what I really thought about his private life and you should have seen his face, I never saw him so red. But I apologized in the end, even though he really gets on my nerves sometimes..."

The girl was laughing and she said, "And I still don't have a real government yet! I wonder how my boss will be. If I ever get one."

"I'm sure you will mon cherie..." France purred slightly and a sneaky hand was making its way towards the other nation's chest.

The girl quickly slapped France's hand away and said with a smirk, "You wouldn't want me to mention any of this to Hollande, wouldn't you? You know how older brothers get..."

France chuckled lightly, "Do you really think that I believe you? What could possibly drive you to mention this to your grand frère?"

England blinked a couple of times, finding the way France and the other nation was acting weird. Why did they sound like they were talking in codes? And what were those looks they were passing at each other? England really couldn't explain what was going on. He decided to intervene before anything else weird happened.

"France?" England stepped into the room and went towards the two nations. He winced as another jolt ran down his shoulder blade.

The French nation jumped slightly, having not expected England to appear. The female nation blinked in surprise at the newcomer.

"Ah Angleterre, you've slept until now?" France quickly smiled warmly, leaning forward to ruffle England's hair. England frowned and took a step backwards. Why did the nations insist on ruffling his hair? It was unruly enough as it is. He then turned his attention to the female nation, looking at her curiously.

She smiled and greeted, "Hi England, I don't really expect you to remember me but I'm Belgium."

"Hello Belgium." England nodded at her after a moment, trying to remember something of her. She didn't seem very familiar to him.

He then looked at France and complained, "My wings hurt."

France's gaze became worried. Belgium looked at France and then at England's wings. She asked confusedly, "You still have them? I thought they were supposed to disappear soon after the meeting."

"They should have." France murmured and got off the sofa and knelt beside England. England turned his back more towards France so that the elder nation had better access to his wings. He didn't think he would allow France near him so quickly after the incident but England had no one else to turn to.

Belgium also knelt beside England, staring at the little nation worriedly. "Your wings look horrible, what happened to them?"

"France clipped them." England answered shortly, wincing at the pain when France lightly touched the juncture between the shoulder blade and the wing. His wings were really starting to feel horrible.

The Belgian nation frowned at England's answer and looked at France accusingly. But France didn't notice her stare, too occupied by England's current problem. He carefully pushed England's shirt up, trying his best not to ruffle the wings.

He looked at the place where the wings were connected to the England's back. The skin around there looked red and irritated. The feathers of the wings were as grey as storm clouds and the wings were completely lifeless.

France then heard a little cricking sound. At first France was sure that he wasn't hearing right, but it quickly became apparent that England and Belgium were hearing the strange sounds as well. It sounded like... a bone about to snap...

Suddenly there was a loud crack and England gasped out in pain. One wing fell to the ground and withered upon making contact to the floor.

Blinking back the tears of pain England tried looking behind him. France and Belgium could see a little wound where the wing had been but it quickly sealed up and the mark disappeared, as if it had never existed.

After a few seconds there was another cricking sound from the other wings. Then a loud crack and the last wing fell off. England shut his eyes tightly, trying to ignore the pain that was shooting down from his shoulder blade.

Then as quickly as the first, the wound closed and all traces of the wing's presence was gone. It was as if the wings had never existed. Both wings were gone, not a feather left. England stood silently with his head down, not looking at either nations.

"Angleterre?" France tried worriedly, putting a hand on the small nation's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

England nodded mutely, not looking up at France. France sighed sadly and pulled the Brit into a comforting hug.

"It's going to be okay Angleterre. Don't be sad." France murmured into England's hair, patting the island's nation back lightly.

"I'm not sad." Came the muffled response from the little nation who struggled out of France's hug and walked swiftly off, not once looking at France or Belgium. France stared after England, having a sinking feeling that things between them just seemed to be getting worse and worse. France just seemed to have natural skills at making England unhappy!

Belgium was staring at him wordlessly, a slight frown on her face. France defended himself, "Belgique, don't look at me so accusingly. I'm trying my best with Angleterre but whatever I do just seems to aggravate him more."

"But why in the world would you clip his wings?" Belgium asked in puzzlement, giving France a sceptical look.

The French nation ran a hand through his hair and sighed, "Pays des Galles suggested it to me, otherwise if Angleterre had continued using them, the wings might have become permanent. Do you see England returning back to his old life with those wings?"

Seeing the other nation shake her head after a moment France added, "De toute facon, it was really difficult to keep an eye on him when he could fly away and ignore my calls. No nation has wings."

"But," Belgium interjected, "England is really looking unhappy now. How much have you told him about before... you know what."

"His grand frères, mostly Pays des Galles, have expressively told me not to mention a thing to Angleterre." After a moment of reflection France admitted, "I don't know if it's a good idea..."

"Why do it then?" Belgium shifted her position to sitting cross-legged.

France did the same and after some hesitation, he said, "Pays des Galles has a worrying theory. If England were to know his true nature, in the present circumstances this England would view his past actions with disgust and reject the "old England". The danger would be then that the "new England" would attempt to reject anything that links him to the "old England" which would pose a great many problems as you know that our Angleterre wasn't exactly inactive in the world."

"True..." Belgium agreed reluctantly, "but isn't he suspecting something has happened to him? Wouldn't he be unhappier being left in the dark for so long?"

"It might be soon time to reveal to him what happened." France nodded affirmatively. Both nations remained quiet for a while, each sunk in their own thoughts.

Suddenly Belgium brightened as an idea struck her. "But I know also another reason why he's feeling unhappy. He is being left to his own thoughts and nightmares, it is only natural that he is so unhappy. There isn't anything to keep him occupied really. I think he should go to Spain's house."

"Pourquoi l'Espagne?" France asked confusedly, staring at the female nation in surprise.

The Belgian held up two fingers. "Two reasons: First, you have to admit that Spain is the type who has an infectious happiness. Secondly, it's harvest season so he'll be even happier than normally and he will probably get England to help him with harvesting his tomatoes. Then England would be occupied and be working alongside a nation who always sees the bright side of light."

"That would have a positive influence on Angleterre..." France murmured thoughtfully, scratching his bearded chin. It was a very good idea. France was unfortunately quite occupied by his boss so he would have to leave England alone often, which wouldn't improve England's moods at all. However when harvesting season came around Spain would devote his entire time in harvesting his beloved tomatoes. Even his past bosses couldn't get Spain to do anything else but harvest tomatoes during this time.

"So, what about it?" Belgium smiled encouragingly, proud of herself for the idea. France nodded and smiled back at the Belgian nation.

"C'est une idée excellente Belgique! I'll call l'Espagne now to see if he is d'accord with it." France stood up and went over to pick up his phone to start dialling Spain's phone number (which he knew off by heart of course)

His gaze lingered outside to his garden. England was sitting beside the rose bushes and was holding a rose in his hand. France looked closer and saw that England was destroying the rose, ripping one petal off after another. His expression was unreadable but his movements were quick and punishing. England was angry.

France pressed the call button, keeping a worried gaze on England. The little nation had to be told the truth soon, or England would be emotionally unstable again.

* * *

"Here we are!" France declared brightly as Spain's house came into view. England didn't look up and he continued walking beside France in a sullen silence. The little nation's mood had not improved much since France had announced to England that he was going to stay with Spain for a while.

Even more, it seemed like England had been on the verge of saying something. But then he hesitated and shrugged, claiming that he didn't mind. France didn't know if he should have pressed England to tell him what was on his mind but right now France was trying to keep the Brit from dwelling on his thoughts for too long.

And the French nation decided that if he didn't show much concern, maybe England would realize that his negative feelings weren't that important and would snap out of it. ...That was at least what France convinced himself of, despite how illogical it sounded in his head.

France walked up to Spain's door and knocked on it loudly. The door immediately opened to reveal an excited Spaniard.

"Hola Francia e Inglaterra!" Spain greeted them cheerfully, inviting them inside. The first thing both nations noticed upon entering Spain's home was that the place was filled by baskets.

England looked about him perplexed, wondering what the baskets were for. Spain followed after the nations and seeing England's confused expression, he laughed lightly. England turned his questioning eyes towards the Spanish nation.

"What are those baskets for?" England asked quietly, looking at Spain a bit warily. He recognized this nation vaguely from America's party, he had been with France when England had remembered that painful memory...

"I'll use these baskets to harvest my beloved tomatoes! They are so plentiful this year, so I'll need many baskets. And a couple of helping hands." Spain answered, grinning widely. He then turned to France and asked, "Will you also help Francia?"

France smiled a bit sheepishly and apologetically said, "Desolé Espagne, but I must be on my way now. There are some things I have to discuss with my boss and there are also... _other _things... if you know what I mean."

At that France did a strange smirk and wiggled his eyebrows at Spain. England had really no idea what France was going on about but right now he seemed creepy. England frowned and edged a bit away from France, more than creeped out by the French nation.

"Nope." Spain quipped, completely clueless and perfectly happy with it. He bent down and picked up a bunch of baskets. He continued happily, "It doesn't matter that much, Romano is going to come later and help me. And I could already start with England."

France sighed but shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head in amusement. England was looking up from one nation to the other, wondering in aggravation if he had any say in this at all. Seriously, why was he being passed from nation to nation like an object?

"You take care of yourself, d'accord Angleterre?"

The little nation broke out of his thoughts and found France at his eye-level, staring at him with a serious expression. England was a bit surprised by the sudden change in tone and only managed to nod uncertainly.

The French nation smiled softly and patted England's head. "I'll be seeing you in a couple of days then." He then stood up and said to Spain. "Have fun with the harvesting Espagne."

"I will!" Spain grinned. France gave a small wave at both of them and walked out of the house.

Spain turned to England and said cheerfully, "So, pick up a few baskets and we can already go and start harvesting my beautiful tomatoes! Romano will be coming by later but I don't think he will mind if we start without him."

England didn't make a move and just stared at Spain warily. Was he like the others? Spain stopped and looked momentarily surprised by England's reaction. He asked in confusion, "What is it Inglaterra?"

"Why... why are you so happy?" England forced out, sounding a bit accusing. It really bewildered England to see a nation so happy. He couldn't understand why he himself couldn't be that happy...

"Well..." Spain really seemed to consider the question, "There is enough sadness in the world. So I want to bring in more happiness so that the world is happier and I'm also happier. Actually why do you look so sad? You didn't seem so sad at the meeting."

England pouted and answered, "I don't really like France..."

The Spaniard laughed loudly at that. "You two can seriously never get along, can you? Even now?"

"I didn't like France before?" England looked Spain curiously, surprised by this new piece of information.

"No, you two have been fighting each other since the very beginning. Francia sometimes only had to say one thing and you would attack him and it was often difficult to get you two apart." Spain smiled in amusement at those memories, those two nations were so incorrigible. England, on the other hand, couldn't understand why France had taken him in if they had always fought against each other. Then an interesting question struck him.

"What about you? Did I fight a lot with you?" England asked, looking at Spain thoughtfully.

"Err..." Spain looked a bit uneasy there, as if he had wanted to avoid the question. Finally he replied, "We did fight as well Inglaterra. You... fought a lot with the other nations. But that was all in the past, you didn't fight as much later!" Spain laughed awkwardly, scratching his head a bit sheepishly.

The little nation frowned a bit at that. "What did I do then?"

"The same as you're doing now." Spain crouched to England's eyelevel and tickled the Brit's nose. "Being sad and grumpy. That's how you usually are. "

England scrunched his nose and leaned away from Spain. He crossed his arms and shook his head. "I don't want to be like the usual me!" England said stubbornly, feeling a flicker of anger at himself.

Spain smiled at England's words and responded. "Well, start smiling more. And be happier."

With renewed vigour Spain stood up with his bunch of baskets and declared, "Let's go and harvest my tomatoes, okay? It'll be fun Inglaterra, but only if you want it to be fun!"

_Only if I want to?_ England was sick of feeling sad or angry, and the last few days he had felt those two emotions too often. He wanted to be happy too. England smiled a little and took two baskets, seeing as they were quite big.

"Okay, so can we go?" England turned to Spain, intent on leaving his bad feelings behind.

"Naturally!" Spain grinned widely and led the way out of the house to his fields.

* * *

Although it took another little while for England to become comfortable in the presence of the cheerful nation, he was soon smiling and laughing at the silly things Spain would do. England took the Spaniard's words at heart and tried to be happier.

And yet... there were nagging thoughts at the back of his head that tried dragging him back into the sullen silence that he had been when he had stayed at France's house. There were so many things being left unsaid or unanswered and though England tried his best to silence these thoughts and simply enjoy himself, he still couldn't fully banish these thoughts.

But Spain was a funny nation to be around and England managed to get along fine with him, a bit better than with France at least. Though a few times England did roll his eyes at the thick-headed nation. Spain really acted like an airhead and England doubted he would find out much about himself when the Spaniard constantly talked about his tomatoes and how happy he was that Romano was coming over to help.

Spain really liked that Romano, England noted. After a curious inquiry he discovered that Romano was Veneciano's older brother. England vaguely remembered a grumpy looking nation beside Veneciano at the world meeting.

Soon the baskets that both nations had brought along were filled to the brim with admittedly delicious-looking tomatoes. England could see why Spain liked them so much.

The baskets were carried back to the house, with England struggling a little bit with his load and more empty baskets were carried out to the fields. Taking the remainder filled baskets, Spain told England that he could stay out in the fields while he carried these tomatoes back to the house and put them somewhere safe and cool.

England nodded and continued harvesting the other tomatoes. Spain grinned to himself as he returned to his home. England looked a lot better than he had done a few hours ago, the island nation looked calmer and happier.

When he arrived at his house he put the baskets with the others and started admiring his beloved tomatoes. He frowned when he saw that in one basket the tomatoes looked a bit dirty. Worried for the well-being of his tomatoes, Spain began cleaning them.

So engrossed was he in his task that he did not hear footsteps entering his house and approaching him. Suddenly an impatient voice snapped.

"Hey, I'm here you bastard!"

Spain looked up, blinking in surprise. Romano was standing over the Spaniard, hands on hips and an annoyed glare. Spain split into a large smile and exclaimed, "Ah Romano, you've finally come!"

He jumped up and pulled Romano into a hug, to which the Italian loudly protested. After managing to free himself, Romano noticed that some of the baskets around him had been already filled with tomatoes.

Perplexed and a little bit hurt, Romano demanded with a trembling voice, "You-You started harvesting without me?"

"Ah, I forgot to tell you but Inglaterra has come over to help us with the harvesting. There are so many tomatoes this year." Spain answered brightly, returning to cleaning his tomatoes. He failed to see the flash of anger in Romano's eyes.

"Inglaterra is out in the fields, you can go join him and help with the harvesting. I'll come back as soon these tomatoes are perfectly clean." Spain flashed a grin at Romano, completely oblivious to Romano's ominous silence.

Romano nodded mutely and walked out of the house.

His thoughts were a bit in a turmoil. England was here? Romano truthfully didn't like the Brit, his personality always annoyed him. And he still hadn't forgiven England for having turned him into a cat. Even if he hadn't done that necessarily on purpose.

And what right did England have to be here helping Spain with the harvesting of the delicious tomatoes? It was his job! England's people didn't even consider tomatoes food when Spain first brought it back to Europe.

The Italian nation tried to convince himself that he was not feeling jealousy. No way. It was just that that bastard of England was not supposed to be here... it was supposed to be just him and Spain. No island nation.

After a few minutes Romano reached the part of the field where England was. He could see that the small nation was occupied with filling the next basket. Romano scowled as he approached England.

Hearing the footsteps, England looked up to see who was coming towards him. He looked at Romano curiously before saying, "You're Romano, right?"

"Yes?" Romano answered begrudgingly, staring at the young nation intently. England shifted awkwardly under Romano's scrutiny but said nothing. Both nations remained in this uneasy silence for a little while.

Suddenly Romano asked matter-of-factly, "So, enjoying yourself here?"

Surprised by the abrupt question, England managed to say, "Yes, Spain is really a funny nation to be around. I like him." Romano's skin crawled at the answer, feeling the impulse to lash out at the unknowing British nation.

"But..."

Romano looked at England again carefully. The little nation looked less happy and more unsure of himself. He looked on the verge of saying something.

"Yes?" Romano prompted, curious of what was going on with the little nation.

"Well..." England hesitated slightly, "I... can't understand why I'm being passed on from nation to nation like this. I mean, France just told me I was going to Spain's house and then said nothing else. The others would bring me to another nation without an explanation. I just... want to understand why they're doing that."

The Italian became thoughtful at these words. So England didn't understand why he was being passed on from nation to nation? No one had bothered to explain that it was in the hopes that England would recover more memories by being with other nations?

A malicious smirk formed on Romano's face. Now was his chance to get back at England for having turned him into a cat and for also having terrified him during WWII!

He quickly looked away to compose his face, hoping England hadn't spotted his smirk. He then shrugged and mumbled, "That doesn't really need an explanation. It's obvious."

"But why then?" England demanded, turning his attention to Romano. The Italian had a sombre expression as he considered England.

"They don't like you. In fact they hate you."

England looked startled by Romano's statement. He asked in perplexed tone, "...Why?

Romano crossed his arms and regarded England with dislike. "You probably don't remember but you used to be a very violent and vicious nation. You fought a lot with the others and you hurt them a lot. The only reason they're taking care of you is because they have to, not because they want to. Don't you notice how the moment they see the chance they pass you on to someone else."

"B-but..." England look shocked, horrified. "I-I... hurt the others? I fought and h-hurt them?" **But why would I hurt others?**

"Sí!" Romano nodded firmly, glowering at England and pointing an accusing finger at the Brit. "You hurt Spain a lot. Just ask him about the scars on his body, half of them are from you! Ask him what you did to his Armada!"

"I d-don't remember anything, I didn't mean to... I-" England stuttered, shaking his head. **I hurt them… I hurt Spain… I'm a monster?**

"You did mean it and the other nations hate you. You've fought with so many of them that you can't even call one of them your friend. You even fought your own brothers. They all hate you." Romano spoke coldly, glaring at England.

"T-they don't!" England protested loudly, clenching his little fists. **But they should if I was so horrible.**

"They do." Romano countered, putting his hands on his hips. "Think about it. You never stay long with any of them, they pass you on to someone else without explaining why and when you ask questions they avoid answering you. Don't you see how happy they are when they are rid of you? They clearly hate you."

England paled, his green eyes wide. **No one likes me. They don't want me.** His eyes slowly filled with tears as England began to hear truth behind Romano's hateful words. Was he really hated so much by the other nations? **They hate me… I'm a monster. I'm a filthy monster.**

"You don't belong here."

The island nation looked up at Romano, tears starting to trickle down his face. **I never belonged here…**

"Go away." Romano spat angrily. "You have no right to be here. Everyone hates you anyway. Just disappear."

**They're just waiting for the right moment to hurt me back. They will get vengeance on what I did to them. **

Tears were now streaming freely down England's face and the little nation started backing away from Romano fearfully. England turned towards the fields and ran hastily into them, quickly disappearing among the tall plants.

Romano huffed loudly and sat abruptly down. Okay, maybe he had gone a bit far with taking advantage of England's uncertainty. But the Brit really angered Romano, how dare he be here helping Spain with the harvesting when it was usually Romano? It was always just him and Spain, no one else.

Oh, England was probably just going off to a corner of the field to cry alone and then he would return. Romano would do that a few times when he was younger...

Several minutes passed and England did not return. Romano heard Spain's faint humming as the Spaniard walked towards the Italian nation. Once he approached Romano he stopped and looked around.

Confusion appeared on his face as he asked Romano curiously, "Romano, where's Inglaterra?"

Romano thought quickly and shrugged nonchalantly, "England just went out wandering in the fields a few minutes ago."

"Really?" Spain smiled at that and loudly called out, "Oi Inglaterra, don't get lost among my tomatoes! Can you just shout out so that I know where you are?"

Both nations waited a few moments but got no response from the island nation. Spain called out again, his voice less confident. "Inglaterra?"

Still no response. Spain started to look worried and went deeper into the field, yelling, "Inglaterra! Where are you?"

Unseen by Spain, Romano bit his lower lip as he too started to feel worried, but for other reasons. Had he really been too harsh with England? Was Romano going to get the other nations angry at him for England's disappearance?

The Italian followed after Spain. They had to find England, or else Romano would have to answer the others nation's questions as to why England fled from them. From him. And Romano had no intention to be put in such an awkward position.

With this in mind, Romano started calling out England's name alongside Spain, their voices echoing over the fields of tomatoes.

* * *

France's boss was droning on about the French people's protests about the retirement age increase and how it was no use to waste energy when the law was still going to be passed. France stifled a yawn, his people were always protesting so it was nothing new for him. Now if only his boss would stop complaining about it...

Conveniently France's mobile phone started ringing. France looked casually at the caller ID and then hesitantly looked up at his boss. "Desolé, mais c'est un appel d'un autre pays. Je peux repondre?" (Sorry, but it's a call from another nation. Can I reply?)

Though his boss frowned at the interruption, he waved his hand calmly, "Vas-y, vas-y..." (Go on, go on…)

Immensely glad to not have to endure another minute of torture, France answered his phone with a flourish. "Bonjour l'Espagne!"

The French nation immediately fell silent as the other began to chatter quickly over the phone. His grin slowly faded and he furrowed his eyebrows. The human was staring at France curiously, wondering what was causing the representation of France to become sombre so quickly.

Suddenly France paled and he jumped to his feet, yelling in a panicked tone, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LOST ANGLETERRE?"

* * *

**A/N**

*drumroll* And we have reached the crisis point! :O Yeah, some of you kinda saw this coming, didn't ya? Now, next chapter things will get a bit hectic as the news of England's disappearance will spread like wildfire... or will it? We'll see what happens next, what will be done to search for the missing England.

Now I really don't want to have people get mad at me for "bashing" on Romano but neither do I want to hear , "That bastard Romano." Put yourself in Romano's place, you're in denial that you like a specific someone and suddenly a person you don't like is with the someone you like and is essentialy doing an activity with the person you like that you have always viewed as "just me and the person I like" time. Now how will you react to the person you don't like? We all want to believe we will react nicely and politely to the person we don't like but reality tends to take a different turn.

Actually, has anyone really wondered why we sometimes dislike a person? There are actually only two reasons: A. You recognize something in them that you subconciously have as well. (generally a flaw) B. Very simply, you're jealous about something they have and you don't. Almost in all cases of where I've disliked a person, A or B have always applied. Just take someone you dislike and name some words you think describes the person. Then take these words and apply them to yourself. If you're open-minded about your flaws you'll be shocked to find similarities. Or if you don't find similarities look at that person and find something that would make you jealous of them. For example, there's that girl in my class that I REALLY dislike. I couldn't stop ranting about her because she is very whiny, very attention-seeking and I was offended when my mother suggested that I was maybe jealous of her. After a lot of thinking, I discovered the source of my jealousy. That girl whines so much and no matter how annoying she is, she always gets the attention she seeks. My friends always stop whatever they are doing to listen to her moan about how unfair life is and/or how bitchy her boyfriend is and yadda yadda. I'm jealous of that girl because I want to be able to complain like that and be listened to. That's the problem, no one wants to listen to my problems, they just want me to listen to their problems. I don't feel heard so I pent up all my negative emotions until I eventually have an emotional breakdown. Generally in RL, no one seems to give a damn about my problems. Which is why I'm jealous of that girl who can moan about the silliest problems and she will always manage to get an audience while I never get anyone to listen to me. (that's why in RL I'm always mute and hardly bother to speak because point black, no one really listens to me)

A Hetalia example now: Why would I think England and Romano don't get along at all? Because they're mirrors of themselves, their flaws are very similar. They both are tsundere, they both are in denial about someone they love, they're cranky, they easily get aggressive, they have sibling problems, probable inferiority complexes... both recognize the flaws in the other and react negatively to it because somewhere in themselves they recognize that they have the same flaws too. Trust me, I'm a very resentful person and there are a lot of people I dislike and for all of them I managed to locate the reason for my dislike. You NEVER dislike a person just because. There is always a reason, however well-hidden the reason may be.

Alright, moving on from the emotional analysis... Did ya kind of see the FrancexBelgium pairing in this chapter? Yeah, why do people forget she is a half French nation? O_o Especially in multi-language videos, people put her for the Flemish part but hardly anyone remembers to put her in the French part. But over half of her population speaks French, which sort of angers the Flemish people who are being constantly shoved aside by the French people. Anything else comment-worthy? Well, England has lost his wings which is a bit sad but it was necessary. You all know it would have been impossible for England to keep those wings. Also we finally have an explanation why exactly information is being withheld from England, it does on the hindsight make sense to be careful about what you tell to someone who previously wasn't the nicest nation known to existence. Oh, and did anyone notice when the dark voice was egging England to run away, it kept referring to itself as I. In this stage the dark voice is still trying to pass itself off as one of England's thought England off, the dark voice also played a good part in it.

Okay, anything else? Don't think so but now the story is picking up speed again. ^^ Look forward to the next chapter! Thanks for reading! (holy sh*t, I'm incorrigible with these long author notes)


	29. Chapter 29

Alright, I had my last exam TODAY! I am ridiculously happy, I finally finished! As I write this it has been barely an hour since it finished. It was my English oral exam, which could have gone a little better but at least I think I passed the exam. I mean, analysing a text in 20 minutes is not easy after all. Especially if it is a text by Jane Austen. History exam last Friday went okay, but from all the cool stuff we studied this year like the Cold War, Decolonisation, Vietnam War, after the Cold War... what do I get? How the EU was formed. =_= Sorry, nothing against the EU but it isn't the most interesting subject compared to the other stuff I studied. So I was a bit disappointed but I managed to answer all the questions on the paper. However when the examiners began discussing the formation of the EU with me, they quickly noticed that politics is really not my thing and that I didn't know a lot beyond what I had learned in lesson. Seriously, first asking me what came before the euro? I never even heard of the ECU until that day. Or asking me which EU institutions make the decisions... well I got 2 out of 3 right, I had no idea what the 3rd one was though. My history teacher thankfully saw that I was struggling and instead asked me to describe in detail the decolonisation of a country my choice. I picked India because I knew that one of by heart. :3

Otherwise, life is going well. One more week before I graduate, then I'm going for one week to Rome to visit a friend, then spend a few weeks in Switzerland, then a couple of days in southern France and then come back to collect my stuff and leave for Scotland where I will spend the next 4 years of my life studying to become a zoologist. Sound like a plan? Of course it does. Will I be able to upload a new chapters during that time? I'll... try. I'll see if I can post a new chapter before leaving for Rome. I doubt I will be able to write anything during my stay in Rome, I'll be visiting tons of places. Switzerland, I'll probably upload something again, that is if we manage to get Internet. We're staying at my grandmother's house and the most modern thing she has of technology is a 60-year old radio. We'll try to get the Internet nevertheless. We'll see how things go, alright? (yeah, for most people summer vacation means more computer time but actually for my family it means "no technology AT ALL!")

Yeah, so enjoy the newest chapter! ^^

* * *

Chapter 29 

"Romano, did you see anything odd with Angleterre when you met him here?" France asked insistently, having quickly rushed over to Spain's house to confirm that England had truly disappeared like Spain had informed him.

The Italian shrugged and replied, "When I came here, he was just sitting there and said nothing at all. Then he stood up and walked deeper into the field. I thought he just wanted to explore so I let him go. How was I to know that he would disappear?"

"Are you sure you've looked everywhere for him?" France asked Spain, sounding almost desperate. Spain nodded worriedly, chewing on his bottom lip.

"I've looked everywhere I could think of. Inside my house, around it, in the fields... I don't know where else to look for Inglaterra..." Spain answered dejectedly. Where could have England disappeared in such a short time?

"Is Angleterre... at least still on your land?" France held his breath in anticipation, assuming the worst.

Spain grew thoughtful for a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration. He shook his head sadly and said, "I feel nothing, Francia. Inglaterra isn't here anymore, I can't feel his presence."

"Merde!" France cursed under his breath and started pacing back and forth, trying to think of a solution to their problem.

"Wait, you mean England nation-hopped?" Romano asked incredulously. "I thought he forgot how to do that."

"Apparently Angleterre remembered how to do it again." France sighed, running a hand through his wavy blond hair.

"But Inglaterra couldn't have gone far, it takes a lot of energy to nation-hop to another country. Maybe we should look in the neighbouring countries for him." Spain proposed suddenly, his green eyes lighting up with hope.

"Hmm, that's not a bad idea." France nodded approvingly as he stopped his pointless pacing. Spain took out his phone and started dialling a number.

"I'll call Portugal to see if Inglaterra is maybe at his place." Spain explained cheerfully before pressing the dial button.

France silently wished Spain good luck with talking with Portugal and then he turned to face Romano. He wasn't completely convinced that Romano had nothing to do with England's disappearance. It just didn't make sense why England would suddenly run away without a reason. On top of that the Italian seemed slightly uneasy although he was doing a pretty good job of hiding it. One thing France was sure about, Romano didn't look innocent.

_What did you do to Angleterre...? _France wondered silently, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. Romano felt France's stare and turned to glare back at him evenly.

"What do you want, you pervert?" Romano demanded defensively, unnerved by the Frenchman's scrutinizing.

France snapped out of his thoughts quickly and replied calmly, "Could you go over to your house to see if Angleterre is there by any chance?" France smiled innocently, still earning him a distrustful glare from Romano.

The French nation was almost certain Romano had said or done something to cause England to run away. And France was going to find out sooner or later. But for now they had to concentrate on finding England without kicking up too much of a fuss.

What would the whole world say if it was revealed that they had lost England?

"And what will you do?" Romano huffed and crossed his arms, breaking through France's thoughts once again. France had to stop himself from sighing out loud in exasperation.

France quickly masked his irritation at the Italian and replied smoothly, "I'll go back to my house to check if Angleterre is there and then I will pass by Monaco's house to ask her to keep an eye out for Angleterre as well."

Both nations then heard Spain start speaking quickly on the phone. "Hola Portugal, I just wanted- no, no, don't hang up on me! No, Portugal, I just wanted to ask something... no, it's not a favour...-wait!"

A short pause followed.

"No Portugal, I really just want to ask you about Inglaterra..."

* * *

After another hard day of negotiations with the politicians had passed, Belgium finally walked tiredly out of the building. These politicians were doing nothing but talk and argue and then talk some more! The negotiations were going nowhere! They were once again unable to agree on one stable government!

Belgium really wanted to finally have a stable government and to stop being so dependent on the regional ministers. She didn't like how some nations snickered at her lack of a government, she had even beaten Iraq's record of not having a government the longest time. Imagine that, Iraq! Of course the Middle Eastern nation found Belgium's situation highly amusing, which really did not help the Belgian nation to feel any better.

Belgium also wanted Wallonia and Flanders, her only two regions, to finally stop arguing with each other. Flanders was barely holding back from launching himself at Wallonia's throat while Wallonia continued to provoke him with her blatant ignorance and disrespect to "his" people and language.

Honestly, the only reason why these two Belgian regions hadn't split up to be their own countries yet was thanks to Belgium's heart, Brussels. Although the capital city was technically on Flanders' side, the city was practically 85-90% French which meant that if Flanders left to become an independent nation, he would have to give Brussels to Wallonia.

Of course Flanders had no intention of doing that, Brussels was after all his prized city, his pride. So he and Wallonia stayed together despite their differences and Belgium had to suffer their quarrels on a monthly, almost weekly basis.

The Belgian nation sunk into her thoughts as she wearily trudged home. She was barely aware of the screeching of the cars, she had grown used to the appalling driving of her own people. However she did look up when the car screeching didn't stop and some people started shouting.

The sight that she beheld both surprised and horrified her. In the middle of the road, cars were skidding violently to a stop as many drivers hit their brakes. Their reason for doing that was because there was a little boy amongst the cars, seeming completely lost and frightened by the vehicles.

Some people were shouting warnings to the boy but he didn't seem to be listening to them. The drivers were yelling angrily at the little boy to get out of the way. Belgium gasped as she suddenly recognized the boy.

England? What was the little nation doing here? And in the middle of the road nonetheless!

Without giving it a second thought Belgium rushed out onto the road towards the Brit. The screeching of more car wheels and the angry shouting of the yet more drivers did not faze the Belgian at all.

"England! Over here!" She called out as she got within hearing distance of the smaller nation, hoping to get his attention before he got hit by one of the cars.

The island nation spun around as he heard Belgium's call but instead of looking relieved he looked even more frightened than before. No longer trying to avoid cars, he ran in the opposite direction from Belgium and in the blink of the eye disappeared from her view.

Belgium stopped running and looked around in confusion. What had scared England even more that he had run away from her?

... Wait, was he running away from her?

But... what had she done to him? Belgium had met England today so the Brit should have recognized her. So why had he fled?

Brought back to attention by the yelling of the drivers as she was blocking the circulation, she crossed the street to the location where England had disappeared.

England had nation-hopped? Belgium thought England had forgotten how to do that. But if he was nation-hopping again, did he even know where he was going? Wasn't it risky to do it when one did not really know where they were going?

Was England running away? But from who and why?

Belgium shook her head, taking out her phone and started dialling. France had some explaining to do.

* * *

France left Monaco's house, feeling rather down-spirited. He hadn't felt England's presence on his land at all and neither had Monaco felt anything on hers. He hoped Spain or Romano had more luck than him, even though Spain quickly learned from Portugal that the Brit was not on his land.

His phone started ringing in his pocket. France quickly snatched it out, hoping for some good news... Wait, was that Belgium who was calling him? Why?

"Oui?" France answered the phone hesitantly, wondering why the Belgian nation was calling him when she had talked with him earlier today.

"Hey France!" Belgium replied brightly. Thankfully she quickly came to the point of her call. "There is something that confuses me a little bit."

"Quoi Belgique?"

"Wasn't England supposed to be at Spain's house?"

"Oui, that was the plan originally..." France shifted uncomfortably, considering whether he should tell Belgium of England's disappearance or not.

"So why then did England appear at my place?" Belgium demanded suspiciously.

France brightened immediately and excitedly asked, "Angleterre is at your place?"

"Was." Belgium corrected before continuing, "I saw him but the moment he saw me, he ran away and nation-hopped. We met today so he should have been able to recognize me, right? But he still ran away."

The French nation deflated a bit in enthusiasm. So England was still out there, wandering around aimlessly?

"Well?" Belgium was waiting for an explanation.

France sighed and mumbled slowly, "Angleterre... for a reason I can't comprehend yet he... ran away from Spain's house. None of us know why nor do we know where Angleterre is going. We don't even know how he learned to nation-hop again."

"But... that's dangerous!" Belgium sounded slightly appalled. "If England's nation-hopping without even knowing where he's going... didn't Switzerland once say that if you nation-hop without knowing your destination you can land in completely random places?"

"I thought about that as well..." France admitted nervously. "But that was never proven right. Switzerland could be wrong on that theory."

"What if he's right?"

"Then..." France began and faltered. He sighed, "Then Angleterre is really in danger. And I don't know how I can help him."

Both nations were silent, each wondering nervously how to proceed. Belgium asked carefully, "In what kind of danger could England be in?"

"Angleterre could appear near an erupting volcano or another place where a natural catastrophe is about to take place. And if that happens what are the chances he will be able to escape in time?"

There was a short pause as Belgium considered France's answer. Then she questioned, "How many nations know about England's disappearance?"

"Relatively few, there's only moi, toi, Espagne, Portugal, Romano et Monaco."

"Are you going to tell England's brothers?" Belgium finally asked the question that France dreaded the most. France took a deep breath, willing his panicked thoughts to calm down.

Indeed, how was he to explain this to England's brothers? Especially Wales, it had taken France so long to convince the Welsh nation that he could take care of England properly. France also shouldn't forget Scotland, he was normally by nature an easy-going nation but France also knew that he took his role as an older brother very seriously.

"France?"

France shuddered slightly and sighed. "I suppose I have no choice, oui?"

"Is there something I can do?" Belgium proposed sympathetically.

The French nation smiled grimly, "Merci Belgique, but all I can really ask from you is to keep an eye in case Angleterre reappears on your land and to make your siblings aware of the situation so that they will also keep an eye out for our little Brit."

"Oh, okay then. I'll do that." Belgium hesitated before quickly adding, "Good luck France."

France murmured his thanks and hung up on Belgium. He then took a deep breath and started dialling Wales' number. If he couldn't avoid this then he might as well get over it.

Pressing on the call button, France nervously waited for the other nation to answer.

* * *

Scotland and Wales were lounging in the living room, Wales engrossed in a book and Scotland watching a film, when Wales' phone rang from the other room. Wales sighed tiredly and lay down his book on the armchair.

"Why can't I ever have a moment of peace?" Wales grumbled as he stood up.

Scotland looked up from his film and he asked in puzzlement. "Why don't you just ignore the phone? They can't expect you to be attainable 24/7."

Wales shot Scotland a disapproving gaze. He replied, "If everyone did the same as you... I have no idea what this world would come to then."

"Oi, I never said that I do it!" Scotland defended himself. "It was just a proposition."

But Wales had already left the room to answer the phone. Scotland heard Wales' greeting and quickly learned that the caller was France. The Scot shrugged and returned his attention back to the film.

After a prolonged silence, Scotland heard a clattering sound. Looking from his film again, Scotland stood up and went to see what had fallen. Outside in the hallway stood Wales, the phone on the ground. Wales' face had considerably paled and he wore the expression of shock.

Scotland was about to ask what was up with his younger brother when he became aware of the excited chattering that was coming from Wales' phone. Curiously, the Scot picked it up to listen what the other was talking about.

"...Please forgive me Pays des Galles, I really didn't want any of this to happen but I can no longer pretend that Angleterre has run away-"

"England ran away?" Scotland exclaimed, cutting France off. The Scot heard France inhale sharply and a nervous gulp followed.

"Oh... euh, Ecosse. O-oui, I'm a-afraid to say England is... gone. He ran a-away." France stuttered helplessly. Scotland narrowed his eyes.

"What did you do to him, Frenchie?" Scotland growled suspiciously, clenching the phone tightly in his grip.

"I didn't do anything!" France quickly denied, alarm in his voice. "Angleterre was at Espagne's house, helping with the yearly harvest. The last nation who saw Angleterre before he ran away was Romano!"

"So... where is England then?" Scotland demanded loudly, unaware that Wales had recovered from his shock and was attempting unsuccessfully to get the phone back from Scotland.

France sighed heavily. "I really don't know Ecosse... Angleterre is nation-hopping, I can't follow him."

"He's... what?" Wales asked, looked momentarily stunned before grabbing the phone from Scotland. Scotland tried reaching out for the phone and caught a side of it. After a bit of fumbling, both nations decided to share the phone so that neither would miss what France was saying.

"Are you absolutely sure that England is nation-hopping?" Wales asked carefully, frowning.

"There's no doubt about it Pays des Galles. There is no way Angleterre could have disappeared so quickly without nation-hopping. Belgique also saw Angleterre nation-hop in front of her."

"But," Scotland hesitated, "didn't Switzerland mention a theory of the dangers of nation-hopping when you don't know where you're going?"

The heavy silence that followed answered the question. Wales took a deep breath, probably trying to calm himself down and think rationally.

"How many nations know?" Wales finally questioned wearily.

"Not many. Angleterre has been missing for only a few hours." France replied apprehensively.

"So what do we do now?" Scotland looked at Wales worriedly.

"Well, we definitely should NOT go out and declare this news to the entire world, that would be extremely stupid. Some hostile nations might use this to their advantage, especially now that England is out in the open and vulnerable. We should... make the nations of Europe aware of the situation first and we might have to organise a search party for England to scan the whole European continent. Australia, New Zealand and the other Commonwealth nations could keep an eye out for England from their homes." Wales explained, his brows furrowed in concentration as he tried organising his thoughts together.

"But what about the rest of the world?" France asked in a puzzled tone. "Angleterre could nation-hop to the Americas, Africa or Asia as well."

"You could tell America and Canada about England's disappearance to begin with." Wales pointed out and then hesitantly added, "I'm really not sure about the rest though... I suppose I could tell China and Japan but I'm hesitant about the rest."

"Alright, you go and tell America and Canada about this, got that France?" Scotland ordered authoritatively. "And while you're doing that, we'll gather the other nations of Europe and search for England."

France was spluttering something, no doubt protesting against being commanded around by Scotland. Scotland heard him say something like "I'll not be the messenger of doom to them...!" before he hung up on the French nation with a smirk.

Now France was also going to have to face America about England's disappearance. Serves him right. Wales coughed and took the phone away from Scotland.

"You know, this is my phone so you had no right to hang up on France like that. And you shouldn't order France around." Wales admonished, frowning at his older brother.

Scotland only grinned impishly. "What would you have said to France then instead?"

At that the Welsh nation smiled ruefully. "Probably not much different from you." He then grew more serious. "Okay Scotland, you go and tell Ireland and Northern Ireland about this. I will go and get the other nations together."

* * *

"A-are... are you absolutely sure about this?" Canada asked nervously as he spoke to France on the phone. He had just heard the news from France, the French nation having preferred to call Canada first rather than facing America.

"Unfortunately oui, Angleterre has run away and is nation-hopping. No one knows where he is right now..."

"But why would England run away? What happened?" Canada asked perplexed, pacing back and forth nervously.

"I really don't know!" France exclaimed exasperatedly.

After an awkward silence France apologised, "Sorry Canada, but I've had this question thrown at me too many times today and I feel like I'm getting all the blame for losing Angleterre. He wasn't even under my care anymore when he ran away!"

"I'm sorry France, I don't mean to sound like I'm blaming you. I just can't understand why England suddenly ran away like that. Are you sure he didn't just get lost while in Spain's fields?"

"I wish..." France sighed. "But if he really was lost, Espagne would have found him. The fact Angleterre remembered how to nation-hop shows that he wanted to get away and rediscovered how to nation-hop under these circumstances. As well as that, when he saw Belgique he ran away, even though he had met her earlier today."

"What can I do to help?" Canada asked worriedly, stopping his pacing around.

France chuckled tiredly and said, "Merci for being so willing to help but I'm afraid there is not much to be done. Angleterre could be anywhere in the world right now, so no one can follow him. All you can do is to try to catch him if he appears on your land."

"You're making it sound like a hunt." Canada frowned slightly at that.

"It is if Angleterre continues fleeing from us." France pointed out simply. "We need to understand why Angleterre is fleeing from us. Something must have happened but I don't know what exactly. I must go soon, Pays des Galles is gathering together the European nations so that we can discuss what we can do to find Angleterre."

"Oh, okay." Canada sighed a bit, he was really worried about England. How must the Brit be feeling now? What had caused him to run away?

"So, can you pass the news on to Amérique please? I've really had enough of being the messenger of doom today and I don't want to face Amérique's anger on top of that."

"B-but why are you pushing the responsibility on me France? That is hardly fair!" Canada protested.

"You're his brother Canada, surely he won't be harsh with you. However he'll hardly have any mercy reserved for me. I'm begging you, can you do this favour for me?" France begged, sounding very desperate. The French nation's imploring voice made Canada's will bend in favour of France.

The Canadian sighed. "Alright France, I will make sure to pass the message on to America. And make sure he doesn't come after you seeking revenge."

"Merci beaucoup Canada, you're saving my life!" France burst out happily. "I'll keep you updated about Angleterre! Bisous!" Then he hung up on Canada.

Sighing again, Canada wondered if it was just pure coincidence that he had come over to America's house today to pay him a visit. America was in his room playing his video games while Canada had left the room to answer the phone. Really, America never bothered to tune down the music of his game, it was impossible to talk to someone on the phone in the same room with America playing his game.

With heavy steps Canada returned to America's room, already dreading the time he was going to tell America about England's disappearance. The American had done a good job at hiding the fact that he wasn't too concerned about England and that he was absolutely convinced that he was "no good" for England's recovery.

Canada snorted at that thought internally. The hero could affront anything else but he wasn't able to confront this memory and finally talk things out with England? Sure, it wasn't a comfortable memory and it certainly wasn't America's proudest hour in terms of being heroic. But England needed to be told, he needed to understand. How else was that rift between these two finally going to close?

The time for confrontation was coming soon, America couldn't keep avoiding it. That much Canada was sure about.

As Canada entered the room, America was still fixated by his game. The Canadian silently sat down beside America, wondering how he should break the news to his brother. He didn't have to wonder for too long.

Without looking away from the screen America brightly asked, "So, who called? Why did they call?"

Canada blinked in surprise but was glad for the opening that America was offering him. He coughed nervously and said quietly, "It was France, he had something important to tell..."

"Oh? What did that pervert want from you this time?"

"He..." Canada hesitated there but decided to just spit it out already. "Listen America, England is... missing. He ran away."

A tense silence followed that statement. At first Canada thought America hadn't really heard him. But then he saw how tightly America was gripping his game controller. Also the race car of the game that the American had been controlling went off track and crashed against a wall and exploded. America's shoulders were rigid and slowly they started trembling.

Finally America said in a voice that shook with anger, "Are. You. Kidding. ME?"

Canada flinched at America's harsh tone and opened his mouth to defend himself. But America cut him off swiftly.

"How long?"

"Huh?"

"How long has England been MISSING?" America turned to glare at Canada, his azure eyes flashing in anger.

The Canadian shrunk back from his brother while he squeaked, "Only a few hours! Stop being angry with me America, I'm not to blame for this!"

"Which idiot was watching over England? France?" America spat out, unable to calm himself down. He flung the game controller away from him, the object crashing to the ground and smashing into pieces.

"Spain." Canada corrected quietly, willing himself to stop looking at America directly. He had to find a way to calm the other nation down.

America looked momentarily stunned before growling, "Couldn't they have picked someone less airheaded than him? How was he taking care of England? What are they going to do now, huh? Where is England anyway?"

"No one knows where England is, he started nation-hopping again but he doesn't know where he's going so he's appearing in random places." Canada answered nervously. "France asked us if we could keep watch if England appears on our lands. France and the other European nations are meeting together to discuss what they should do."

This bit of information seemed to pique America's interest and cool some of his anger down. "What, like now?"

"...Yes."

"Why aren't we there then?"

"We aren't European nations America."

"So?" America blinked, gazing at Canada oddly. "England is my business too, I don't see why these Europeans should shut me out of it. I want to find England too." America stood up suddenly and grabbed his bomber jacket.

Canada started to protest, "America, I really think you shouldn't go... I mean, they didn't ask for your assistance..."

America, clearly not listening to Canada, grabbed the Canadian's wrist and pulled the northern nation to his feet. "You're coming with me Canada!" He declared determinedly. "Don't you want to find England too?"

"I do but-" Canada began but anything he said didn't seem to register in the American's mind. Before he could do or say anything, Canada was being dragged out of the room by said American, and he really wasn't in any position to decide otherwise.

_What am I being pulled into again? _Canada thought wearily.

* * *

**A/N**

Poor Canada, he's being pulled around yet again by the boisterous American. So, who's happy to see America back? I know some of you will be really happy, it has been one of the most common requests that I've heard. Well, America is finally back and man he is pissed! But he's back and he won't leave the stage again, at least not for a very long while. I also brought Scotland and Wales back, hope you guys are also happy with that. England's brothers will start coming back like America, they are crucial to the plot as well. ^^

For those who are interested to know more, I've given you an accurate image of how things are going in Belgium. (since I've been living in Brussels for 6 years now) Yeah, Belgium actually beat Iraq's record for being the country with no stable government the longest time. Look it up, there are quite a few articles on that. It is actually funny considering that Belgium is the one who has the inofficial heart of the EU. (Brussels) How does a nation continue functioning without a government, you ask? We have regional ministers, that's why. A lot of newspapers outside Belgium make her situation sound so melodramatic that it shouldn't be taken seriously. There are no riots going on, no fights, nothing. It's just the French and the Flemish people don't get along very well and can't agree on anything. ^^; It is a pretty chaotic country, or at least Brussels is very chaotic. We don't strike as often as the French but we reach the borderline sometimes. Belgium only has two regions, Wallonia and Flanders and these two regions don't get along well. Brussels was originally a Flemish-speaking city but with the large immigration of French people into that city in the past few decades, most people say that the city is about 70-90% French now. Fact is, you meet with great difficulty a Flemish-speaking citizen there, you're more likely to meet a French-speaking citizen. If Flanders were to leave to become an independant nation, they won't be able to keep Brussels. So it is sure they will stay with Wallonia because obviously they will never accept giving Brussels to Wallonia, depite the city being more French than Flemish.

And the Belgians do drive really badly. O_o Even worse than the Italians! The Italians, it is all about speed. But for the Belgians, it's freaking free-style and breaking all types of traffic rules. I've observed Belgian traffic and Italian traffic so I know what I'm talking about. You have to have good reflexes in Belgium, I was almost hit by a car or truck on 6 occasions. The drivers really don't see you if you're crossing the street, you have to literally glare at them to make them stop. So a word of warning if you ever go to Belgium, beware of the horrendous driving. Oh, and being in a bus is sometimes more dangerous than being outside of it.

Now, last thing I want to add. We all know about pixiv Scotland who got quite popular with the Japanese fandom a while ago, right? Okay, well I like the design but I really don't agree with his personality. But I noticed that the way his personality is depicted is becoming more common in the English-speaking fandom. Bad-ass and jerk Scotland seems to be getting popular. I think I'm the only person with a Scotland OC who is cheery and rather easy-going, though mine is also quite prideful. Look, I based Scotland's personality on some Scots I've met in my life. Scots are really not as cruel or England-hating as some people think they are. At least that's not the impression I got from the Scots I met. And when I read some fanfics where England's brothers are present, it is becoming increasingly clear to me that many don't bother to read a lot of history on them or they wouldn't make those kind of mistakes. Let me make something clear**: Scotland was never forced into the UK**! Wales was invaded, Ireland was invaded, but the invasion of Scotland FAILED! The Battle of Bannockburn tells the whole story about how Scotland managed to remain free and kick England's ass quite literally, even though it took England ten years to stop sulking and finally accept Scotland as an independent nation. Scotland merged with England WILLINGLY in 1707 and that was due to when Queen Elisabeth I of England died in 1603, the King of Scotland became the King of England as well. Sure, England took over the steering wheels of the UK for a long while and wasnt always fair on Scotland. But people forget that Scotland wasn't in the UK because he was invaded like Wales and Ireland. And if Scotland wants to, he can leave. Yes, if Scotland holds a referendum and the Scots vote in majority for independence, then Scotland can leave the UK and England cannot and will not stop them. (the same goes for Wales and Northern Ireland, all they need is a majority of their people asking for independence) There are actually plans to hold that referendum in Scotland in 2014 or 2015 and there is a great chance that Scotland will be in a few years independent. So all that resentfulness I see in fanart and fanfics where Scotland and England are concerned? Not necessary and quite unrealistic. I'm just saying that to the people who plan on writing Scotland in their own fanfics, I can't stop you guys from writing the bad-ass, cruel, jerk and rapist Scotland but I am reasoning that it is not an accurate image of him. Just wanted to share that with you guys, it is not an attack, simply an opinion from a person who knows a great deal about the British Isles.


	30. Chapter 30

Alright, going to have to make this quick. I'm packing for Rome but I'm also packing to take some of my things to my mother's house and also preparing to take some things with me to Scotland. I'm a happily graduated ex-pupil, I'm really happy with the diploma I got. ^^ I needed 70% overall to get into my university and I got 78.8% which is pretty comfortable for me. Other news? Hmm, I have a spirit living in my room, just got that confirmed a few days ago. I'm being honest, I believe in spirits and my family has a history with spiritual encounters and sightings. I never really saw one myself but I can feel them very strongly, too strong to be just my imagination running away with me. Anyway, in the last two months I've been having something walking on the wooden planks in my room and making them creak very loudly at about 2 or 3 in the morning and whenever I turned the lights on there was no one. It actually didn't really occur to me that it might be a spirit until a few days ago when I was having trouble sleeping and the planks started creaking again. I growled at the planks to just stop creaking and suddenly something blew air on my face. Literally, it felt like someone had blown air on me! And in the six years I've spent in the same room, I've never had any kind of air current like that. My window was closed, the door was closed, there was no logical explanation for that burst of air that I've only felt on my face. I turned my lamp on to see but naturally there was no one there. There is no logical explanation why the wooden planks creak exactly between 2 or 3 in the morning almost every night and so I'm tempted to assume that a spirit has moved in due to the abundance of negative energy I've released with my negative emotions. So yeah, living with a spirit and fine with it, it doesn't seem hostile. ^^

Anyway, hope you enjoy this last chapter for a while. I put a lot of effort into this one, pulled a few minor characters in and a few OCs appear but I don't think you guys will mind them too much. The main theme of this chapter would mainly be chaos. I'm quite happy with how the chapter turned out.

Edit: Sigh, why does life insist on punching me in the guts just when I'm happy? Yeah, my grandfather just... died. He died about an hour ago but it was a peaceful death, he closed his eyes and took a last breath and was gone. I'm not that badly hurt, I barely knew him personally. I met him many times but there was no true bond so I'm a tiny bit sad but I'm not crying buckets. It's more my father who needs it, he's barely holding back his tears and he wants to cry so badly that his lips are trembling. I can understand his pain, he already lost his mother about 30 years ago and now he lost his last parent...

* * *

Chapter 30

Wales called all the gathered nations to order. Most of the European countries had been able to respond to the Welsh nation's call, with only two or three nations not replying. The others gathered around the table and looked at Wales expectantly.

"I want to thank everyone for making it here on such a short notice. Wales began gravely. "As you've all gathered from the email I passed around, unfortunately England has run away for reasons that still escape me."

"He's been missing since when? Who saw him last before he ran away?" Germany asked in a calm and professional tone. Leave it to Germany to ask those kinds of questions but in a way Wales was glad for them. A (relatively) cool-minded nation was what they needed to lead the others, they needed to think this through carefully if they were to find England.

Wales answered, "From what I understood from France, Romano was the last one to see England before he fled." The Welsh nation turned to look at Romano curiously, asking, "How was England acting before he disappeared?"

Romano, who had been sitting beside Italy, immediately tensed up and started nibbling on his bottom lip uneasily. He snapped, "But I've already told you everything dammit! There is nothing more to add."

"Be reasonable Romano." Germany sighed, "There is clearly something that we're missing here. Something that caused England to suddenly decide to run away. We need to understand what that is."

"I didn't do anything!" Romano denied swiftly, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

Germany looked at Romano evenly, noting that Romano was behaving more oddly than usual. He replied, "No one implied that you did something. But according to Spain, England was in good spirits and wouldn't have had any justified reason to run away. Isn't that correct Spain?"

Spain nodded firmly, "Yes, I am absolutely sure that England was in a very good mood when I left him. I really can't understand why he ran away."

Lithuania proposed nervously, "Maybe he had planned it before? Perhaps he had already made his decision."

"That would make sense, England was really not in the best of moods when I met him earlier today at France's house." Belgium agreed whilst nodding her head.

But Monaco proceeded to shake her head and point out, "But it wouldn't make sense that England waited for Romano to appear before he ran away. He would have done so the moment Spain left him alone in the field."

"Which brings us back to how England was acting when Romano came." Germany concluded, turning his attention back to the fidgety Romano with a sceptical expression, "Romano, are you sure there isn't a small detail that you have missed to mention to us? We really need to know what happened so that we can have an idea how to proceed."

Thankfully for the uneasy Romano, he didn't have to answer Germany's question. Or at least he didn't have the opportunity. Suddenly the doors burst open and in strolled America, with Canada in his tow. "Ah ha ha, I see you guys have already started without me! Don't worry, the hero always manages to make it on time!"

The Canadian behind America could only hide his face in shame. The assembled European countries were all looking at the two new arrivals dumbfounded, no one uttering a single word. No one knew how to respond.

America just grinned widely, seemingly oblivious to the atmosphere and sat in one of the unoccupied chairs. Canada silently followed suit and quickly sat beside America, hoping dearly that America knew what he was doing by barging uninvited into a European meeting.

"So..." America began unperturbed, "What's the plan?"

It took the other nations a few moments to recover from their shock. "We were establishing what could have caused England to run away." Germany explained stiffly, obviously annoyed by the American's presence. When would America understand not to meddle in what was strictly a European affair? And why did he always drag Canada around him, the Canadian was an independent nation for crying out loud!

"Pfft, boooorrrring! We should concentrate more on how to find him now. We're just loosing time by talking and talking without doing anything." America scoffed, looking challengingly at Germany.

The German nation bristled at the insult but managed to keep his calm. "America, if we don't do things the orderly way and just plunge in, we have no chance at finding England at all! And according to Belgium, England is even actively avoiding us."

That surprised the American. "Really? But why?"

Before Germany could answer the poor battered doors were thrown open once again and a new nation rushed in. All nations looked up curiously to see who it was. It turned out to be Hungary, who was presently gasping for breath as she must have run to make it in time.

"I'm really sorry for being so late, I tried to make it here as quickly as possible." Hungary gasped out, walking over to sit beside Poland.

"Hungary?" Austria looked at the female nation incredulously. "You're not known for your lateness."

"I know." Hungary smiled sweetly at the Austrian and then became more serious as she turned her gaze to Wales. "Wales, when I was leaving my home I saw England appear in front of me."

"You did?" Wales asked in surprise before quickly questioning, "What happened?"

The Hungarian smiled sadly, "I really tried to calm him down, the poor thing seemed completely lost and very frightened. But somehow when I tried to get near England he seemed to panic more at the sight of me and ran. I tried following him but sadly he nation-hopped away before I could stop him."

A few nations started murmuring among each other, many wondering why England was suddenly so afraid of them. It was now clear that the Brit was fleeing. But the reason for his sudden fear still remained unclear and the nations were at loss. How could they find England again and calm him down when apparently he feared every nation?

"But why is England so afraid of us? None of us have done anything to him." Canada asked perplexed. Romano shifted uncomfortably at those words but remained stubbornly silent and no one noticed the Italian's reaction.

"I think we should concentrate on how to get him back." France suggested. "I don't like thinking that Angleterre is somewhere out there wandering around. Imagine how scared he must be."

"But what can we do?" Finland asked helplessly, looking worriedly at the other nations. "If he's nation-hopping randomly how can we follow him when he doesn't even know himself where he's going? We have no way of following him."

"Ve, what if we did the same as him?" Italy proposed brightly, proud of himself for being the one with an idea for once. An unconvinced silence followed Italy's proposition, the expression of all nations clearly stating what they thought of the idea. What was Italy talking about again? He wasn't making any sense as always.

Germany sighed and rubbed his temples. "Italy, I don't think you really understand the situation-"

"Sure he totally does!" Poland suddenly burst out, cutting Germany off. He seemed to have understood know what Italy was talking about. "If we nation-hop like England without, like, knowing where we're going, who says we'll totally go to the places where England goes? It could be, like, a pattern of some sort."

The murmuring started anew among the nations, the idea from Italy not sounding as illogical as it first seemed. Yes, perhaps the places were random but wasn't there maybe a kind of pattern in the randomness? It was a plausible theory.

"But there are thousands of patterns possible, how in the world are we going to land on the "correct" pattern?" Switzerland countered logically.

America pointed out enthusiastically, "Well, looking at our numbers right now, we can all nation-hop randomly to different locations and clear up a lot of possible patterns at once. Logically if we land on the same pattern as England, we will land somewhere near where England appears. So we just need to check if England is around us and then we can nation-hop to another place if we don't see him."

Some nations started to look between each other and discuss the idea further. Some nations started nodding, this plan could possibly work! Belgium looked about in confusion as more and more nations began to agree with the idea. She asked in puzzlement, "So are we all going to nation-hop to some location without a single idea about where that place is exactly?"

"Ja, I'm afraid so." Germany sighed, shaking his head. He looked around at the other nations and protested, "We have no proof that this will actually work."

"But it is logically possible. No one has ever been able to prove that nation-hopping without knowing where you're going is entirely random." Estonia pointed out.

"We've got to try it anyway!" Scotland insisted, gazing at the nations who still seemed hesitant at the idea.

Wales looked thoughtful before he nodded, "Alright, we'll have a go at it. We have nothing else to lose." Wales stood up and gazed around at the other nations. "Try to approach England as calmly as possible and try to calm him down, convince him that we mean him no harm. If all methods fail then attempt to catch him but please try not to hurt and scare him too badly. Whoever does manage to find England, bring him back to his own house where I will stay with him and try to resolve why he has fled from us in the first place. I want England unharmed and brought back to his home in one piece, got that?"

The nations all nodded in agreement and Switzerland also stood up and declared, "Also, another warning if we are all going to do this. Naturally since we're nation-hopping without knowing where we are going, we use very little energy as opposed to our usual nation-hopping. But nation-hop too often like this and you will get tired and it would certainly become problematic if you're too tired to continue and you've landed in the middle of nowhere. So try to keep track of where you're going, or else you might be stranded somewhere for some time."

All gathered nations nodded again and they started to stand up from their chairs. They took a few steps back from the table and put enough space between each other.

"Good luck then, and hopefully one of us will find England." Wales said solemnly.

Then all nations closed their eyes and were gone.

* * *

England stared fearfully at the creature that stood before him. What in the world was that creature supposed to be? England couldn't recognize it at all, though something at the back of his head was convinced that he should know. He certainly must have known what it was at one point but now he was absolutely clueless. The strange creature stared at England curiously, flicking an ear lazily as it munched on some grass.

The little nation stared at it warily and started to back away slowly from it. Unfortunately that caused some of the other creatures to look up from their grazing and shift closer to England, obviously intrigued by the little nation. A few of them sniffed the air to get an idea of what England was.

One of them hopped to get a closer look at England and the Brit let out a cry of surprise, jumping back from the creature. Once again he wondered what those weird creatures were. England looked around, desperate to get out of this crowd of odd creatures. They didn't look exactly dangerous but England was acutely uncomfortable around them, they were too big and those strong hind legs frightened him. He couldn't help but imagine what would happen if he was kicked by one of those creatures.

He then heard heavy footsteps approaching him from behind. England whipped his head around and saw a young brown-haired man walking towards him. For some strange reason he was wearing a band aid on his nose but that was the least of England's concerns. His heart started pounding loudly and England struggled to breathe slowly. It was better not to hyperventilate here, England had to remain alert.

"G'day England, why'd you nation-hop all the way to down here? It is nice to see you here, I hardly get visits from nations who live as far away as you do." The man grinned widely as he got in closer distance to England. He seemed friendly and harmless but England remained wary. How did this man know his true name...? England's eyes widened with realization and fear as his senses picked up the signals of another nation, telling the Brit exactly what exactly stood in front of him. Now England could feel it, this was another nation, another danger. Why was he constantly bumping into nations?

Slowly England began to back away from the unknown nation fearfully, his eyes frantically searching for a chance to escape. He had to get away, this nation was surely going to attack him soon. He had to get out of here!

The other nation seemed to notice England's distress and his expression became worried. He slowed his pace and tried to calm England down. "Don't look so scared England, I won't hurt you. You don't have to run away from me. I'm a friend."

But this did not calm England down. At the word "friend" England began to panic and quickly turned around and fled, not caring if he bumped into one of the strange creatures or not. Luckily they hopped out of his way, startled by the sudden movement.

"H-hey! Don't run away! England!" The other nation called out but England paid no heed to him. He continued running while chanting loudly in his head. _I want to go somewhere else, I want to go somewhere else, I want to go somewhere else..._

He then felt what was becoming the familiar sensation of travelling to another place quickly. The others called this nation-hopping? England hoped that this time he would land somewhere where he wouldn't bump into another nation. He just wanted to go hide somewhere, he didn't want to meet any nations.

Within a blink of the eye, England was gone in thin air. Australia stopped his futile chase, panting slightly. Well great, he now had no idea where England had nation-hopped to. There was no way he could follow England now.

"Crikey, England sure is fast." Australia mumbled, still a bit out of breath. Who would have known that England was so quick? He was so little to begin with! And talk about a reversal of a déjà-vu scene for Australia, his first meeting with England had gone exactly that way. When Australia had been a very young and wild colony, England had tried approaching him carefully and talking to him softly. But Australia had turned around and fled, not knowing what to make of England. He had hid in the bushes to get away from the Brit.

…When thinking about it, Australia wondered how England had been able to convince the colony that he meant him no harm. Ah yes, the classical luring. England had lured Australia out of the bushes with the smell of marmite, the colony had never smelled that strange brown substance before. After tasting it the Australian thought that it was possibly the vilest thing he had ever tasted in his existence but instead of running away again, Australia decided to stick around and try to save England's taste buds. Anyone who liked marmite had to have a suicidal tongue after all.

That's why several years later Australia created Vegemite, which was decidedly tastier than marmite. But now back onto the pressing subject.

Australia knew from Wales that England had fled and was presently nation-hopping around the world without knowing where he was going. The Australian had been sure that he would not see England here, but apparently the little nation was able to travel here and go to somewhere else without appearing remotely tired. Which was quite a feat, if anyone nation-hopped normally from Europe to Australia in one go, many nations would just crumble of fatigue within minutes of arriving in Australia. That's how big the energy drain was.

This nation-hopping business was a fickle thing. If you knew where you wanted to go your energy would be drained according to the travelled distance. But if you travelled without knowing where exactly you were going, you hardly lost any energy. That hardly made any logical sense but that's just how things sometimes rolled.

Suddenly a nation landed in front of him. Australia looked at the newcomer in surprise, wondering who it was. Two nations coming here in a single day? Then he recognized the other nation and beamed happily.

"Hey, g'day Ameri-"

"I'm Canada Australia!" Canada sighed in frustration. Why did even the former colonies of England mistake him for the American?

"Oh, err... sorry for that Canada. You really look like him if you don't look carefully." Australia quickly apologised, grinning sheepishly at the irritated Canadian.

Canada rolled his eyes in exasperation. _Because no one ever notices the hair length difference..._

"By the way, you just missed England." Australia informed, looking at Canada curiously. "Did you just nation-hop randomly to here? You don't look tired at all."

"You saw England?" Canada exclaimed, looking astonished.

"Yeah, he was here less than 2 minutes ago. He ran away from me, even though I tried my best not to frighten him."

"Wow..." Canada breathed out. "I didn't think I would hit this lucky on the first attempt."

"So you are nation-hopping randomly?" Australia repeated his question again.

"So are America and pretty much every European country. The theory was that one of us would eventually land on a pattern that England is following and find England himself. I just didn't think I would get so lucky..." Canada smiled, proud of having been the first to prove this theory as correct. But now he had to get England...

"In what direction did England disappear?" Canada turned to Australia.

"Uhh, there?" Australia pointed in front of him, past Canada. The Canadian looked behind him and nodded.

"Okay, thanks for your help Australia." Canada looked back at Australia and smiled. "And don't mistake me for America again please."

"Don't worry, I'll... try." Australia promised with a small grin. "Good luck!" He added hastily.

Canada smiled and waved, walking briskly until he disappeared into thin air. Australia really hoped that Canada would be able to catch up with England and bring him back home. Australia couldn't help but wonder what had driven England to suddenly flee from everyone.

He took his phone out and dialled a number. Australia put the phone to his ear and waited for the other to respond to the call. When the one being called replied, Australia said excitedly, "Hey Kiwi, you lost the bet. England landed on my land first, not yours! And Canada also came here which doubles my win. Fork the money over whenever you want!"

"Oi, no fair!" New Zealand protested. "How come you always win?"

"Guess I'm a lucky Aussie." Australia laughed.

* * *

Now where the hell was he? America looked around in confusion, completely disoriented for a moment. It was one thing nation-hopping without a clue to where you were going but it was a completely different matter trying to figure out in what land you had just landed in.

Well for one thing, there were a lot of tourists. No exaggerating on that part, there was really a huge crowd! America looked around him once again and suddenly he spotted a familiar tower.

A tower that was leaning to one side... was that the tower of Pisa?

So America had landed in Italy, huh? A quick scan through the crowds told him that the little British nation was most probably not here. America sighed but he only felt more determination in finding England.

It's not like the hero was supposed to succeed on the first try anyway. Just as America started considering to move on to another place, his phone started ringing. America blinked in surprise as he looked at the caller ID. He answered it promptly.

"Hey Israel, why're you calling me?"

"Umm..." The other nation seemed taken aback by America's forwardness but quickly recovered. "Well, I just had a query..."

"Yeah?"

"Is it... normal for England to be here? In the Middle East?" Israel asked perplexed. The Israeli obviously hadn't gotten any wind of England's disappearance yet.

America was shocked to say the very least. His mouth was gaping open. "Wha...? ENGLAND'S IN THE FREAKING MIDDLE EAST? WHERE?" Some tourists jumped and shied away from the shouting American, all staring at America in confusion. They had no clue at all what America was shouting about.

Israel quickly protested, "America, stop shouting in the phone! I'm not deaf you know!"

"Sorry," America apologised before hurriedly repeating. "But where is England now?"

"Not here anymore, I pretty sure the other guys completely freaked him out."

"...What guys?" America's tone darkened immediately, wondering who had dared to scare England like that.

"Just... guys. Look America, I don't want any fights so I'm not naming them. It's just that basically England landed on one of their lands, that one called the others and chased after England and the whole group landed here." Israel explained patiently.

"Wait, they all landed on your la-"

"America! This will not have any impact on my country or on theirs. And neither will it affect England's country or yours. This is between us, not our people." Israel ground out, clearly trying to stay patient with the hot-headed American. "England is gone and I told the other guys to go home and they did... of course I did have a gun with me but that's beside the point. But the question is, what was England doing in the Middle East? I didn't even know he remembered how to nation-hop anymore."

"Errr..." America shifted uncomfortably, should he tell Israel about it? They were allies after all and Israel had bothered to call him about England after all. "The thing is, England… ran away."

"He did?" Israel asked in astonishment.

"Yeah, so me and the guys from Europe are looking for him." America explained, smiling a bit awkwardly. He and the others must look really silly right now to Israel. It certainly looked like a wild goose chase.

"But how can you look for him if he's nation-hopping?" Israel sounded confused, America was absolutely certain that the other was frowning on the other side.

"Umm... he's kinda nation-hopping randomly so we're also nation-hopping randomly. Then, at one point, one of us will appear on the same land as England and err… manage to calm him down and bring him home." America hoped that made sense to Israel, because he had no better way of explaining it.

"Hmm, more like capture him knowing how some of those European nations are. Well, good luck then. The world is a really big place, England could be anywhere." Israel almost sounded sympathetic.

"Don't worry, as the hero, I'm sure I'll find him first and bring him back safely!" America declared confidently, laughing his heroic laughter. (and the tourists around him shifted away slowly again, staring at him warily and suspiciously)

After an exchange of farewells, America put his phone back in his pocket and started sprinting, disappearing so quickly into thin air that hardly any tourists saw him nation-hop. He loved to nation-hop while running, he loved the feeling of the air whooshing through his hair. It almost felt like flying.

That was until America landed on another land and suddenly collided into something. Into someone to be more precise. America fell back and landed onto his back, the air knocked out of him. He wheezed lightly as air rushed back into his lungs.

"Watch it you eejit!" A familiar voice cursed.

America looked at the person he had collided into and realised that it was Ireland. The Irish nation had also fallen to the ground and was rubbing his head, having probably hit his head during the collision. Ireland glared at him but then seemed to recognize the American.

"Oh, Meiriceá? Sorry for the snap but honestly, don't run when you're nation-hopping! How would you explain to a human why you suddenly appeared out of nowhere and crashed into them, huh?" Ireland huffed as he struggled to his feet.

The North American nation jumped to his feet and smiled sheepishly, "Yeah, but it's so much more fun running instead of just standing and nation-hopping. It's really cool, you should try it as well."

Ireland rolled his eyes, "It's all fun until you land on train tracks and there's a train heading right towards you. That's one collision I don't want to face."

"Pfft, what are the chances of landing on train tracks and having a train heading right towards you anyway?" America snorted with laughter, the idea was highly amusing to him.

The elder nation sighed and brushed some dust off of him. Ireland then said, "We might as well continue, Sasana is still missing. Have you had any luck in spotting him yet?"

America shook his head, "Nah, but I got a call from Israel telling me that England landed at his place with a couple of Middle Eastern nations hot at his heels not too long ago. He told me that England is probably freaked out by now."

"Christ…" Ireland muttered under his breath. "I can just hope that the others who are looking for England behave like responsible adults and are not treating this like a man-hunt. We definitely don't need England losing all trust in us."

"We'll find him Ireland, you can trust me on that." America stated encouragingly, smiling widely. "You have the hero's word that England will be found soon."

Ireland chuckled at that, "Yeah, yeah, be the laoch of the world and all that…"

"Lay-what?" America raised an eye-brow at Ireland, having no idea what the heck that word "laoch" meant. It didn't sound like English of course…

The Celtic nation sighed as he turned around, "Laoch means hero, I thought that this would seem obvious to you… well anyway, good luck." Ireland took two steps forward and disappeared.

America shook his head, he would never get the hang of Ireland's gibberish. As long as America wasn't made to learn the language, he was fine with it. He was perfectly happy with just English.

Turning into the other direction, America broke into running again and nation-hopped to another country, hoping that he would find England soon.

* * *

Spain crouched low on the ground, his eyes focussed on one particular target. A little runaway nation, who was proving to be a lot more difficult to catch than anticipated. Spain had taken a few moments to look at England and he knew that simply talking to the Brit was not going to calm him down.

The island nation was looking around him warily, his body tense and ready to flee. There would be no talking to this nation, he was completely in the fight-or-flight phase. Spain was afraid that he would have to attempt and catch England, bouncing up to him and being his cheerful self was not going to put England at ease.

Thankfully both he and England had landed in some small dusty street filled with people. The place didn't look very familiar but Spain had an idea where he was more or less. The advantage he had here was that there was constantly activity around England, he wouldn't become aware of Spain sneaking up on him until it was too late. At least Spain hoped that it would work out this way.

Very quietly, Spain began to inch his way towards England. Luckily the Brit wasn't moving a lot, he seemed afraid to move any further than where he was. And the constant moving and talking of the humans served as a perfect distraction.

But as Spain crept his way closer to the small nation, his alert senses picked up on signals of another approaching nation. Spain froze and cursed his bad luck. He was not on his own land so he had no way of knowing who the unknown nation was who was currently approaching them. He just knew that another nation was coming. And he was so close to catching England! About two bounds and England would be in his grasps! But now this nation was going to come and ruin Spain's plans.

"England? What are you doing here?" The unknown nation suddenly spoke out. England froze and looked in the opposite direction of where Spain was, into another street that seemed to be joining with the main street. Since Spain was hidden against a wall, he couldn't see who was coming and through all the noise of the humans he couldn't really recognize the voice.

England started backing away slightly from the other nation and Spain could plainly see that the Brit was going to break into a run. Spain made up his mind, it was now or never!

Spain jumped out of his hiding place and launched himself at England. The British nation spotted him out of the corner of his eye and turned around to start running. Spain was so close, he was going to catch England!

But-! Before the Spaniard had managed to wrap his arm around the island nation, the other unknown nation also jumped forward to go after England and consequently Spain crashed into the other and fell down. England broke out into running and was quickly lost in the crowd of humans.

Spain groaned lightly, his shoulder aching from the collision with the other nation. Spain looked to the side and saw that it was Brazil, who was rubbing his forehead with a pained expression. Spain hastily apologised to the Brazilian nation and then struggled to his feet and started running after England, set on not losing him again this time.

"Hey, Spain! Wait up!" Brazil called out after Spain and soon the South American nation had caught up with the running Spaniard. Brazil ran alongside Spain and demanded, "Alright, what the hell are you doing."

"Running after Inglaterra." Spain responded simply, sweeping his eyes through the humans. A flash of blonde hair caught his eyes and Spain spotted England who was weaving through the crowd quickly.

"I can see that, but why?" Brazil questioned, he too having seen England now.

Before Spain could respond, he saw that England was about to nation-hop in a few seconds. Spain sped up in the hopes of catching England but he was starting to see that he might have to nation-hop as well to continue following England. Just as England disappeared, Spain nation-hopped after the Brit. He hoped that he would land on the same land as England.

He felt Brazil grab Spain's shirt just in the last second and nation-hopped with him too. When Spain landed on the new land, he felt Brazil land beside him who looked around in confusion. "Where are we?"

"I don't know." Spain replied quickly, looking around to see where England was. They had landed in another narrow street but the style of the buildings had changed and the people looked different, they were more Asian-like. Thankfully he swiftly spotted England and chased after him

The Brazilian nation followed after Spain and demanded, "You're nation-hopping randomly?"

"So is Inglaterra." Spain answered.

"But why are you running after England?" Brazil asked in exasperation.

"To understand why England is running away from us. He's fleeing from us nations." Spain hastily explained, turning sharply around a corner as England tried to lose Spain and Brazil. Brazil made a sound of understanding but he still seemed surprised by the revelation. But he didn't slow his pace down, he continued following Spain.

Suddenly Spain slowed down and Brazil did the same. Their reason for that was that England had abruptly skidded to a stop, finding himself in the middle of a cross-road, one of those roads blocked by a stern-looking nation.

Switzerland stood his ground and tried his best to adopt a lax attitude, trying to put England more at ease. The Swiss nation looked at England evenly and said, "Be calm England, calm down. Where do you want to go? Where are you going to run?"

"I-I…" England looked lost and undecided, for now he didn't seem to be considering running since Switzerland had made no move towards him. However, unnoticed by him, Spain and Brazil started slowly tip-toeing closer to the Brit from behind. With now England having his full attention on Switzerland, the two other nations _might_ be able to cut off all escape for the island nation.

Now all Switzerland had to do was keep England's attention on him.

The Swiss nation frowned when he spotted Spain and Brazil behind England, though he tried his best to mask it from the Brit. He looked like he wanted to oppose the two other nations' plan but he couldn't do or say anything that would set England into a panic again. Not when the island nation was just starting to calm down.

"I don't know… I don't know anymore…" England shook his head, his eyes conflicted.

"Why are you running?" Switzerland asked as calmly as possible. Spain took a silent step closer, determination burning in his green eyes. He was almost there!

Suddenly a tile slid down a roof from one of the houses and smashed on the ground in pieces. England immediately looked up with Switzerland, Spain and Brazil doing the same seconds later. On one of the rooftops was a nation no one else had noticed until now, Romania.

The red-eyed nation grimaced slightly at the mistake he made that blew his cover and without wasting another second, he nimbly climbed down the small house and quickly launched himself at the British nation.

England let out a small shriek of terror and took a step back and bumped into someone. The island nation panicked and tried to make a run for it. Just at that moment Spain and Brazil jumped at the same time and Switzerland tried blocking England's way.

Several bodily collisions followed and the next few seconds were absolute chaos. It wasn't until the dust had cleared that it became visible what exactly had happened. All the larger nations had crashed together and fell into a heap and through sheer luck England managed to escape their hands once again. By the time Spain tried seeing where England had fled to, the small nation had disappeared.

Damn Romania! If he hadn't been there Spain surely would have had England by now! And Romania was a bit too enthusiastic of climbing on top of rooftops and then dropping down on his "victims" to give them a scare. He especially loved doing that trick on Hungary. But unfortunately Romania really didn't have a good concept of calculating WHERE he landed when he would drop down.

Consequently, Romania had landed on both Spain and Brazil. On both of those nations had fallen forward and landed on Switzerland. And somehow Switzerland seemed to have fallen on someone else. They were literally a heap of nations!

"Will you three finally get off of me! You're crushing me!" Switzerland growled under his breath moodily, trying his best to wriggle out from underneath the others.

"If they're crushing you, then how do you think I must be feeling?" The nation below Switzerland complained, turning out to be Luxembourg. One of those kind of nations who were easily forgotten, a bit like Canada.

Romania smiled sheepishly, his snaggletooth protruding prominently as he clambered off Spain and Brazil. The Romanian nation insisted that he didn't have vampire fangs but nations enjoyed gossiping just as much as fighting so it was a bit difficult to shake off the image of Bram Stoker's Dracula that many people seemed to associate with him.

"Heh, sorry for landing on you guys." Romania apologised before adding, "But I almost had England, too bad you were all kind of in the way." The red-eyed nation sighed dramatically.

Spain got off Switzerland and brushed himself off. He countered Romania, "I would think you were in the way, you ruined my plan. I've chased Inglaterra from Brazil's home to here, I was entitled to be the one to catch him."

Brazil said supportively, "In actual fact, I and Spain were a lot closer to England than you were so technically we were in the right."

Luxembourg, having been helped up by Switzerland, sighed, "Look, if we're making this about distance, I was the closest to England. Since you guys never notice me, I used it to my advantage because England wasn't going to spot me in time. I could have literally put my hands on his shoulders, that's how close I was." The smaller nation huffed in annoyance, frustrated that his plan had been foiled as well.

Switzerland burst out angrily, "Why are you all making this into a hunt? We're not hunting England! There should be no "catching" him! He is a frightened and lost nation and you've made it a lot worse with your disastrous attack! We could have just tried to calm him down, not make a move on him. I almost managed to break through to him. But what do you do? Destroy the last chances of getting to England in a civilized way!"

The other nations shrank back in response to the Swiss nation's rage. Switzerland suddenly turned on and glared at Luxembourg who jumped slightly. "I honestly expected better from you Luxembourg, given that you're usually so quiet and observant. I would have expected you to at least try to reason with England and not treat him as "something" to catch." Luxembourg looked down at his feet and bit his lower lip.

"And you!" Switzerland turned to Romania, "For goodness sake, stop climbing rooftops! It's dangerous and you can get people hurt. You're going to replace that broken tile as well. It was completely unnecessary to climb on the roof anyway. Our goal was to find England, not scare him more." Romania shifted from one foot to another uneasily.

"Spain," Switzerland continued, moving on to the Spaniard, "you could have shown a bit more compassion. Some talking would have gotten you further than chasing after England, you probably made him more scared by running after him."

Spain opened his mouth to defend himself, "But Inglaterra wasn't going to listen to m-"

"You could have tried anyway." Switzerland cut him off briskly, shaking his head at Spain. He finally then turned to Brazil and looked at him in confusion, "And honestly, what are you doing in all this Brazil? This is strictly a European affair so I don't see how you came into this."

"Spain landed at my place and crashed into me while running after England so I just tagged along to see what was going on." Brazil hastily explained, seeming quite intimidated by Switzerland. For a small nation Switzerland was really fierce and had larger nations like Spain and Romania shrinking away from him in fear.

The Swiss nation blinked slowly before shaking his head again and turning to face the European nations, "So, am I clear with all of you now? Stop treating this like a hunt, England doesn't deserve such treatment. Chances of communicating with him are probably ruined so just try to be as gentle as possible if you manage to corner him. You will have to worry about me if I find out any other unacceptable behaviour or methods being used by you in getting England. Pass that message on to the others as well. Understood?"

"Yes Switzerland!" All three European nations answered quickly.

"Hey, can I and some of my brothers join in and… help out?" Brazil asked brightly.

Switzerland turned around to look at Brazil incredulously before sighing, "Alright, but repeat what I just said to them as well. We don't want England more traumatised than he already is."

"Would… a fishing net be considered as an unacceptable method to get England?" Brazil questioned carefully. A tense silence followed and Switzerland's glare was all the answer Brazil needed to know that it was indeed not one of the best ideas. "Okay, I'll take that as a no." Brazil laughed nervously before nation-hopping away, undoubtedly going to get his South American brothers to join in.

"I'll be going then as well." Luxembourg muttered before turning around and disappearing.

"Me too." Romania added hurriedly, nation-hopping away shortly after Luxembourg.

"I should get going too." Spain said lowly, turning around to leave as well.

"Spain?"

"Yes?" Spain looked back at Switzerland nervously, wondering what other cutting remark the fierce Swiss nation had prepared for the Spaniard. He was surprised to see that Switzerland was looking at him rather calmly.

"Please don't take my reprimands too personally. I just felt the need to remind you all that England is a nation, not prey." Switzerland crossed his arms, seeming kind of apologetic and chastising at the same time. He then declared, "That was all I wanted to add." The Swiss nation then nation-hopped away.

The Spaniard let out a small sigh of relief but he had to unwillingly agree that Switzerland did have a point. Spain had too easily forgotten that this was not a chase but an attempt to understand why England was so afraid of them suddenly. Running after him probably did not improve matters and perhaps negotiations were no longer possible.

He could just hope that the next time he met England he would try his best to make England doubt his actions, weaken his resolve. If England didn't know where he was running, he would certainly question himself why he was running in the first place. Then the Brit would be easier to handle.

At least that's the way the Spaniard hoped it would go. Spain hoped that this plan would work, he had no other plans otherwise.

* * *

Throughout the whole day, many nations would nation-hop to dozens of different places. And some of them did bump into England more than a couple of times and even followed him to the next few places he fled to.

But in the end the Brit always managed to shake them off. None even came close to catching him. Some of the nations noted sadly that when they would catch a glimpse of England again, the little island nation seemed to get more and more distressed.

Some nations, like Hungary, even wondered if what they were doing was right. It was clear that they were scaring England, anyone would be scared if they had a bunch of others hounding them. But what else could they do?

Could they maybe let England calm down and the Brit would eventually come back on his own? But England was by now completely lost and disoriented, how could he return?

Soon night had fallen in Europe and the tired nations were forced to conclude that it wasn't today that they were going to find England. Although nation-hopping randomly did use less of their energy, many of the nations were now feeling the tiredness numbing their bones. There wasn't much they could do except go home and have a good night's sleep.

The North American brothers also had to go home because not only were they tired from all the random nation-hopping, but they had also previously crossed the Atlantic Ocean to get to Europe, so the tiredness of that was catching up with them too. Canada even considered taking the airplane, that's how tired he felt.

Brazil and his brothers also stopped some time after the rest of the European nations had gone home, they had been a little bit too enthusiastic and had nation-hopped more often than the others. They were also really tired.

And England?

He had also spent almost the whole day nation-hopping, trying to flee from the others. He was beyond tired, completely exhausted. But fear and adrenaline had kept him going, he had no idea what the other nations wanted from him. All he knew was that a lot of them were following him and that scared England almost half to death.

The sun had set and the first stars were peeking out of the sky when England finally stopped nation-hoping. The exhausted Brit fell onto his knees, his shaking legs not able to support him anymore. He was really tired, England didn't know that nation-hopping could use up so much energy. He honestly felt completely drained.

England shivered slightly, the night air here was cold. He looked around himself. The island nation had landed in the middle of nature, he could see nothing but tall trees and bushes. Not far from him England could see the ground disappear. Craning his neck England saw that he had landed near a cliff.

The wind blew, causing England to wrap his arms around himself tightly to keep himself warm. This place was really cold but England had no energy left to nation-hop to somewhere else. He was going to have to stay here.

The little nation crawled closer to a bush to seek shelter from the wind. He was really cold and he wished for some warmth. England was starting to shiver more. There was a rumbling sound overhead. Seemed like a storm was not far off as well.

Oh, how he wished he could be in a warm and safe home right now. Did the nations really hate him as much as Romano had reported? He couldn't deny what some of the things Romano had said did add up in England's mind but a part of the Brit dearly wished that it wasn't all true.

Tears pricked at his eyes as England wrapped his arms around his knees and pulled them closer to his chest. He wanted... what did he want?

He wanted the truth. England wanted to be finally told everything that has been kept from him for as long as his recent memories allowed him to remember. England wished... for everything to become clearer.

It was useless to flee from the others. At the time England's mind had been filled with blank panic and had mainly acted on the instinct of getting away from them, but now that he reflected on it, England realized that he was going nowhere by doing that.

That was not the way of getting answers. And the others hadn't seemed like they wanted to hurt him... or were they just good at hiding their dark intentions?

England shook his head fiercely. Which voice should he listen to? Which was the voice of reason, of logic? What should he do?

Tears continued streaming silently down his cheeks and England buried his face into his arms in frustration. Quiet sobs started escaping from his cold lips. England scrunched his eyes shut and he curled into a ball, hoping for sleep to come quickly.

The wind continued howling into the cold lonely night.

* * *

Norway was about to go to bed when he heard an insistent tapping on his window. The Norwegian sighed, he was already tired from all the nation-hopping as he had participated with the searching for England as well. Now who was tapping on his window at such an hour in the night?

The nation went to the window to see who it was. He was surprised to find that it was one of the fays who lived on a hill nearby Norway's house.

He opened the window the let the little fay in. He could see that the little creature was excited, the green glow around it shining stronger than usual.

"Hello fay, what brings you to my house so late?" Norway greeted, nodding at the fay.

The fay flitted up and down, a smile on its face. "Don't you feel it Norge? One of your kind is here!" It then flitted out of the window without another word, giggling softly under its breath.

Norway, confused, closed his eyes and scanned his lands, wondering if Denmark was trying to sneak in again. It wouldn't be the first time the Dane had attempted this. And it certainly wouldn't be the last time, Denmark's perseverance was as hard as steel.

When his senses finally zeroed in on the signals of the other nation, Norway was surprised that it was England. England had nation-hopped till here?

"Interesting..." Norway murmured, wondering what he should do with this new piece of information. He couldn't really go there himself, he might scare England and the nation might try to flee again.

Yet Norway could feel that England was in the middle of nature, and Norway had bears out there. And the night was also pretty cold. He couldn't leave England out there.

He should call someone who knew their way around England and would know how to approach the Brit.

Hmm... the choice wouldn't be that difficult to make actually.

* * *

**A/N**

Yeah, I'll leave it up to you guys who Norway will call. Who could he POSSIBLY call? Any ideas? Because I have no idea AT ALL. ;) Let's just hope that a nation finds England first and not a bear. Bears are not all over the country Norway but they are present along the border with Sweden so that should give you a good idea where England exactly is.

Who loves a meddling America who honestly doesn't care that he isn't a European nation and still comes along to help out? I find it quite sweet but I'm sure a few nations are more than a little annoyed with America. Ah well, not everyone can be happy anyway. I tried giving some of the minor characters a chance to speak out again but you know, it's really not easy juggling so many nations together. I managed to finally get Australia into the story, he might appear a few times again coz I really like him. But I really like New Zealand more, even though I'm a bit disappointed with the official hair colour he has received. New Zealand stayed stuck in my head as a light blonde. :( Even if people complain that there are already too many blondes in Hetalia, Himaruya could have given the official colours a bit sooner before New Zealand stayed stuck as a blonde for me. Now it will take time for me to get used to a brown-haired New Zealand.

I absolutely love Romania's design so I really wanted to introduce him into my story as soon as I could. The idea of him climbing on rooftops just to drop down on his victims and scare them to death just came to me and I thought it was too adorable to pass it up. Romania is a bit based on one of my best friends who is Romanian and is a very proud girl. I love her to pieces even if we argue quite a bit. X3 A lot of people seem to associate Bram Stoker's Dracula with Romania which seems to annoy other people a lot. To think Bram Stoker was Irish... *coughs awkwardly*. But here's a strange but true thing. Most people say Bram Stoker was the first author to modernise vampires, to introduce a new generation of vampires which today are how we see vampires in general. (folklore vampires are anything but what we see in movies and novels nowadays) In actual fact Bram Stoker was inspired by another author who also wrote a vampire story 25 years before "Dracula". Have you ever heard of the story "Carmilla" by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu? Carmilla was a lesbian female vampire who sort of courts a female human called Laura. Carmilla is an interesting vampire, she detests prayers and crosses, she can turn into that feline-like demon thing and her favourite place of biting to drink blood is either the wrist or the _chest. _(no neck) I started reading the story but stopped halfway through, I should pick it up again.

For those who don't know, Ireland's curse word "eejit" comes directly from the word "idiot". In Ireland "eejit" is considered a worse insult than "idiot" so don't use that word lightly in front of an Irish person. I've seen some of them get really angry if you playfully call them "eejits" so don't mess around with that word.

I hope no one minded the three OCs I slipped into this chapter. I don't really see them as my OCs as I haven't really developed them, I just wrote them the way it felt right to me. Luxembourg really is the European version of Canada, absolutely everyone forgets that poor nation but in actual fact the Luxembourgians kind of like that. They have their peace from the rest of the nations and their living standards are really high. The people who live in that country are really rich. O_o There is this hilarious postcard that I once saw that has a lot of Hetalia potential, the title is "To be a perfect European, you must be..."  
...as available as a Belgian (with their holdidays and strikes... yeah, hardly available)  
...as sober as the Irish (now that's just an oxymoron)  
...cooking like the Brit (we all know about Iggy's cooking abilities)  
...driving like the French (French are sometimes seen as bad drivers but they immediately point fingers at the Belgians)  
...as famous as a Luxumbourgian (European Canada FTW)  
...as humble as a Spaniard (Spain and pride go hand in hand in my mind)  
...as technical as a Portugueuse (a headcanon for those who have a Portugal OC)  
...as controlled as an Italian (tell me how Romano and Veneciano can possibly equal controlled? XD)  
...as organised as a Greek (organised is not the first word that comes to mind when thinking about Greece)  
...as humerous as a German (tell me a time Germany was laughing and was NOT drunk)  
...as generous as a Dutch (yeah, you know HOW generous they are, right?)  
...as discreet as a Dane (discreet and Denmark shouldn't be used in one sentence)

Alright, hope you liked this chapter (despite the high number of characters and change in settings) and I will TRY to get a new chapter up at some point during the holidays. Definatily not next week nor the week after... maybe in three weeks if I'm lucky.


	31. Chapter 31

Hey, back from my three weeks of barely any internet! :D God, it feels so great to be back! It was at first a bit refreshing to be away, but in the end I was really starting to miss the internet. Rome was great but the heat was terrible, I almost collapsed from dehydration on the first day. Luckily I went to Rome to visit a best friend who had moved back to Italy and she was a great help showing me around the city. She's a true GerIta lovechild, with her mother German and her father Italian but she mostly acts a lot like Veneziano. A true chatterbox and loves laughing . Overall, I had a fun time in Rome but one thing, you Italians are seriously big machos and love flirting! I never had guys flirting with me before and it was quite disconcerting to have so many walk up to me and start chatting in Italian to get my attention. And all those cars honking at us when my friend and I were just freaking waiting for the bus! X_x Right now I'm in Switzerland and all is going fine, except I have a pretty bad gum infection but I've been to the dentist and he gave me something so that my gums get better. It seriously hurts, it sometimes throbs right down to the roots of the teeth. Blah, at least I haven't felt any pain in a while.

Now, back to the story... *chuckles* That's the problem with the internet, hardly anyone noticed that I was being teasing when I asked who Norway should call. I've known who it should be for a long time, there is no way I would have continued writing this story if I didn't know how to end the whole "England runs away" arc. Some of you have mentioned the character while others have reasoned it would have been impossible... thing is, there was no correct answer to my question. There is a very clear reason why I picked the character, it wasn't only about "saving" England, I also had to consider the consequences and what happens after. I have everything planned out, I would never put my readers in a position where they're thinking "Holy cow, she doesn't know how to continue." If I didn't know how to continue, I wouldn't have bothered with making England run away in the first place. Some of you people will not be pleased with my choice of character, but THERE IS a reason why I picked that character. A reason that will become clear even by the end of the chapter. Oh yeah, and let me make this clear one last time: **This story is going to end in romantic USXUK! I'm sorry if you don't like the pairing but it's been decided since many months ago and at roughly 300 pages of this story, I am not about to start being ordered around what pairing should be in the story and even how the pairing itself should be. **

I shall put up what the people suggested to me and the following reason why that particular character wouldn't have really worked. (remember, there was no correct answer to my question. England didn't trust anyone, regardless of whether he knew the nation or not or whether the nation was calm or not):  
**Norway: 3** (true, he is calm but he is tired and England wouldn't have trusted him. Switzerland's method probably convinced him that even the calm nations were a danger to him)  
**Portugal: 3** (England does have a lot of history with Portugal but England wouldn't remember any of that. Portugal would have been also pretty tired.)  
**Finland: 4** (His innocence wouldn't have done him any good, England would have still run away. As mentioned before, Switerland's method and the disastrous attack following right after would have convinced England that no one was safe)  
**Japan: 7 **(Why so popular Japan? I'm pretty sure it would have been very late into the night at his place and he would have been still asleep. He might have been also quite peeved being left out of the whole fiasco and wouldn't have taken kindly being woken up)  
**Northern Ireland: 2 **(Cute idea but knowing how much he cares about England, Northern Ireland would have been completely exhausted in the end and I doubt England would have even trusted him)  
**One of England's brothers: 1** (Not very specific, eh? I'm pretty sure they would have been also very tired)  
**America: 6** (England probably wouldn't have trusted him and America was also pretty tired in the end)  
**Canada: 2** (I mentioned in the last chapter that Canada took the airplane to go back home... he would have been totally exhausted)  
**Sweden: 2** (I was a bit surprised by this suggestion, wouldn't Sweden's stare have scared England off? Sweden would have also been pretty tired, everyone in Europe would have been exhausted.)  
**France: 2** (hmm, really not sure, considering the things that happened between those two, France wouldn't have been the best choice)  
**Spain: 1** (Spain had just chased after England, he was definitely not the best choice. Probably tired as well)  
**North Italy: 1** (Nice idea but trust issues and tiredness once again stand in the way there)  
**Denmark: 1** (Trust issues and tiredness would have stood in the way again)  
**Seychelles: 1** (I do think the user who suggested this to me was joking)  
**Switzerland: 1** (With the bad taste that his attempt left behind, I'm not too sure it would have worked out well...)  
**One of the Nordics: 1** (Not very specific again)  
**Sealand: 1** (Another cute idea but I'm a bit worried that Sealand would have taken advantage of England's size and "invade" him, thus not making him one of the best candidate. He would have been asleep as well by then)

Interesting results, huh? You'll now see who I actually had in mind. And before you guys go crazy on me, remember that I have a really good reason for picking that character. Just wait and see and have faith in my writing. ^^

* * *

Chapter 31

Wales paced back and forth in frustration. None of the nations had been able to get to England, though many had seen him at some point during the search. A handful of them had even almost managed to catch England but going from Switzerland's report of a certain event, the attempts had been far from respectful or even civilised. Wales wasn't pleased at all but what more could he do than scold those nations for their lack of thought? It wouldn't bring England back after all.

By the time the dark curtain of night had fallen upon the European continent, all the nations had become exhausted from the random nation-hopping. In the end the search party had to be called off and the message was passed around that it would resume the following morning.

What really made Wales feel uneasy was that England was still out there somewhere, unprotected. The Welsh nation would still be looking for England if he wasn't as fatigued as the others. But Wales couldn't push himself further and going beyond the limits of your own body was just plain stupid and irresponsible. He would have to first sleep the tiredness off to be able to start searching for England again.

After a moment of pacing, he turned to the fays who had been watching Wales worriedly, fluttering around the living room. Wales knew that they were England's companions and were thus very close to the Brit. He suddenly had a bright idea.

"Fays of England?" Wales said hesitantly, wondering how he should correctly address them. The Welsh nation was more familiar with dragons, the fays being a bit too mischievous and unpredictable for the nation's taste. At least with dragons, one knew exactly how a dragon would react to a certain action. Fays were like humans, each individual reacted differently. Fortunately it seemed like he had addressed them correctly because they approached Wales curiously.

"Have you found England yet?" One of the fays asked nervously. They too were aware of England's situation, having heard of the news when Scotland had been discussing it with Ireland and Northern Ireland.

Wales shook his head sadly and replied, "I actually had a question for all of you . Can't you find England?"

The fays considered the question before one of them shook their head and said, "We're sorry Wales, but we can't find England if he doesn't call for us. And he hasn't called for us in months because he doesn't remember anything about us."

"But you were always able to go and find England before, even if he didn't call for you." Wales protested, disappointed that even the fays were powerless in this situation.

"Because we knew from England where he would be. But in this situation we have no way of knowing where England is." Another fay explained in an apologetic tone, the fays around her nodding their agreement sorrowfully.

Wales sighed sadly and shrugged helplessly. Back to zero then.

Before he returned to his pointless pacing, Wales asked the fays intently, "Were any of you present when England... tried finishing his life?"

At that question the fays quickly backed away from Wales, many of them disappearing from view completely. The ones who remained all shook their heads quickly.

A braver fay elaborated, "England was feeling bad on that day and he told us to leave him alone for a while. Please don't remind us of such a horrible event, many of us still feel bad that it happened when we could have maybe done something to stop it."

"Oh, I didn't mean to make any of you feel bad, Fays of England." Wales apologized, sighing inwardly.

Ah well, it had been worth a try he supposed.

* * *

"Man, I feel like I could sleep a century now!" America complained loudly, to no one in particular, as he entered his house with heavy steps. Honestly, the whole day had been a tiring ordeal for America. It wasn't even night in his own home, it was the whole European continent that was currently on the night side.

What was worse for America though was, while others seemed to have seen England a couple of times, the American had barely seen the elusive Brit. Maybe a few glimpses here and there but America wasn't too sure whether he had really seen England or not. That was quite a blow to America's pride, he had been so sure that as the hero he would have been the first to find England and bring him back safely.

Apparently fate was not on his side. (then again when had fate ever been on his side?) America pouted at the unfairness of it as he threw himself onto his couch, too tired to bother dragging himself to his bed. All the random nation-hopping at the end of the day did drain a lot of energy, it just wasn't as obvious as with the usual nation-hopping.

His phone then decided to make his life harder than it already was and started ringing obnoxiously loud. America groaned in frustration and felt sorely tempted to simply ignore it. However he decided to check the caller ID on the phone anyway, just to know who the hell was calling him now.

He was quite surprised to find that it was Norway who was calling him. America stared at his phone in shock. Sure, he had given his number to Norway and to pretty much any nation who had a phone, in case any of them ever "needed a hero to call", but that guy never called! Why was he calling America now though? Wasn't it late into the night over at his house? Shouldn't Norway be already asleep? Or more like collapsed, America knew how much caffeine that Nordic nation drank so it was possible Norway did more than his own body could handle.

Curiosity getting the better of America's tiredness, he promptly answered the phone, "Hero speaking, yes?"

He heard an imperceptible sigh from the Norwegian before the Nordic nation spoke, "America, I know where England is."

"You do?" America exclaimed, sitting up all alert.

"Yes, it appears that he is on my land. I can feel his presence. But I don't know if I should approach him since he would certainly try to flee to another country again. In doing that, England might push himself beyond the capacities of his own body and dangerous consequences may follow. So I thought that maybe you had a better chance of approaching England instead." Norway explained calmly.

"... But wait, couldn't you try to approach him first, since you're the closest to him right now? You know your own lands very well, you could approach him very quietly and then leave him no chance to escape to somewhere else. Besides, England already knows me so he might run away if he saw me." America reasoned warily. He was already very tired and he really wasn't sure if he could nation-hop back to Europe and then look for England at Norway's home. Sure, he wanted England safely back in his home but why couldn't Norway call someone more awake than him or at least attempt approaching England himself? With the way things were going, every nation was the same in England's eyes. America doubted that the Brit truly cared if it was a nation he recognised or not.

"Do you really think so? I think England would be more likely to flee from me instead of you because he hasn't familiarised with me yet. But he spent some time at your house and was happy, so you might have a better chance of approaching England. Actually I thought you would be jumping at the opportunity, since you insisted on participating in the searching so much…"

"Hey, I didn't say I didn't want to do it!" America said hastily before laughing. "I was simply considering the different possibilities... but I'll try and get England, I'm a hero after all!"

"I simply chose to call you because I thought England might have more trust in you America. Everyone else in Europe is asleep by now and I couldn't think of anyone else outside Europe. Meet me outside my house and I will show you where he is exactly." With that, the Norwegian hung up. America stared at the phone dumbfounded.

Did Norway really think that England had more trust in the American? America wasn't sure if England really trusted him that much... but America really wanted to find England. Despite his tiredness, America was clear on that. He wanted to find England and calm him down and finally discover England's reason for running away. There was surely a reason. For now it was an obscure one but there was one nevertheless. America was curious about that reason and he kind of… wanted to become closer to England again, become friendlier with him. Ever since his birthday, America had avoided England in the fear of being rejected by the Brit again but somehow he found himself missing England as well. It had been a while since he last really talked to England. From what he gathered from the European meeting, England's stay with France hadn't been a very joyful one. Of course America knew that it would go badly, he had even tried to warn Wales and Ireland before! France's and England's relationship had never been a very harmonious one and England's amnesia was honestly not going to change matters so quickly. If America found England and brought him back… the American might be able to improve his relationship with England. Help England out, mend the rift between them.

America sighed and then became aware that he still felt quite tired. And now he would have to nation-hop across the whole Atlantic Ocean again. Well, a lot of sugar and caffeine would temporarily help to boost America's energy and to keep him going for a few more hours. It shouldn't take him too long to find England, now that the searching had been narrowed down to Norway's home.

The North American nation stood up and dragged himself to the kitchen. Right now he needed tons of coffee and sweets to get more energy into his system before going to Norway's house. He definitely needed the boost after all.

* * *

"So, where is England exactly?" America asked Norway brightly, admittedly a bit high on sugar but at least he felt a bit more energetic than before. Norway looked at America strangely but didn't question the American's behaviour, deciding instead to focus his attention on their present situation.

The Norwegian pointed towards some far off mountains in the distance and answered, "England is somewhere over there, on high ground." He took out a map and handed it over to America, pointing to a large circle he had drawn on the map. "England is approximately somewhere within that circle.

"Err… couldn't you be a little more specific than that? That's a really large area I have to cover to look for England." America nibbled his bottom lip uneasily, the large circle on the map wasn't comforting him at all. Dude, there must be several miles within that circle! And he shouldn't forget about the mountains either. He looked up from the map towards the mountains and gulped silently. They all seemed so big to him and he wasn't even near them yet.

Norway shrugged his shoulders, "I'm sorry America but this was as accurate as I could localise England's signals. I am already very tired, so my senses aren't as sharp as they usually should be. I can't get more specific than this." The Nordic nation looked up at the dark sky. The night was starless, dark clouds hiding the shining companions of the moon from view. Both nations distinctly heard a faint rumbling in the distance and a brief flash of a small lightning. "Ah yes, there might also be a storm coming soon." Norway added as an afterthought. He then looked at America curiously and asked, "Are you okay America? You suddenly look a little tired."

America quickly shook his head and grinned widely, "Nah, this hero ain't down yet. Anyway, gotta get England outta here before the storm starts, right?" He looked back down at the map and looked at the coordinates of where the circled area was and decided to land in the middle of that area, hoping that he might be able to pick up the signals of the small island nation from there. Then he would be able to orient himself towards where England was and find the Brit. Sounded like a great plan, didn't it? But before he could make a small nation-hop over to the marked area, he was interrupted by Norway.

"I think it would be a good idea to have a flashlight with you. It's quite dark out there."

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot about that..." The American laughed a bit uneasily as he looked at Norway. "But I don't really have one on me right now-"

He was promptly handed a flashlight by Norway. America stared at it in surprise before beaming at the Norwegian and taking the flashlight from him.

"Thanks Norway!"

Norway nodded slightly, a hint of a smile on his normally impassive face. America grinned in return and turned his gaze towards the looming mountains.

* * *

The wind was sure picking up higher in the mountains. America's teeth chattered loudly as he wrapped his arms around him. Man, how could it be already this cold in October? He hated the cold!

America had really hoped that when he landed in the area, he might be able to pick up even a faint signal of England. Unfortunately luck was not on his side and he had no other choice but to search further away. He really hoped to find England soon because he definitely didn't want to stay out in this chilly Norwegian weather. Especially since the dark clouds weren't letting up. Thankfully though the rumbling of the thunder had grown fainter, meaning that the storm was moving on. Hopefully it would just rain but America dearly wished that it wouldn't rain either. He was cold enough already.

Turning the flashlight on, America began to scan his surroundings carefully for any sign of the Brit. Norway was right, it was really dark up here. Without a flashlight, America would have been completely lost in the darkness.

But honestly, how was America supposed to find England? Sure he knew from Norway that England was high up and was in the surrounding area where America currently was, but apart from that, what other piece of information did he have? America had absolutely no clue where to look for England in these mountains.

Should he call out for England? But that might certainly scare the Brit off.

...So he really had no other choice but to randomly look around?

Aw come on! Wasn't he the hero? Surely this shouldn't be difficult for him! Sure, it was maybe a challenge but America only had to believe in himself and follow his instincts! And his hero instincts would lead him to England!

The American grinned confidently and continued searching for the island nation, scanning the ground and the surrounding bushes with the flashlight.

About 10 minutes later and America started feeling decidedly less confident again. The mountains seemed vast and endless, how in the world was America supposed to manage this alone?

He had to get help from the others... but he really wanted to be able to arrive at England's house and brush England's brothers' thanks off with a "Don't worry about it, that's what heroes are supposed to do!"

And logically speaking, who would be still up by now and be willing to help America? Canada was certainly asleep, as were probably the rest of the European nations. So who outside those nations could help... Japan maybe? Was it day or night at his place? America had absolutely no clue.

Australia then? Or... or maybe-

*crack*

America immediately spun around at the sound of a twig snapping. He frantically scanned the dark bushes from which the sound had come from with his flashlight.

What was that? America was frozen on his spot, not daring to make another move. It couldn't be a ghost, could it? Ghosts don't make sounds like sticks breaking. They couldn't do that sort of thing, right?

*rustle*

The American jumped and pointed his flashlight towards the bushes where the movement had occurred. He kept the ray of light trained on that spot for a while, his hand slightly trembling. He hoped whatever was in there would soon go away, he still had no clue what it was and he wasn't counting on discovering what it was. Maybe if he was very still, the thing would ignore him and go away. Maybe it was just a bear? That would be a lot better than a ghost!

After a few tense minutes, whatever was making the noise suddenly jumped out of the bushes in plain sight of the American.

First he jumped back in fright with an unmanly shriek and he almost dropped his flashlight but then America let out a relieved laughter when he saw what it actually was. God he must have looked so stupid for acting up like this!

In front of him stood... a rabbit.

Yep, America had gotten frightened by a fluffy rabbit.

Not.

Heroic.

At.

All.

For once America appreciated the fact that he had been alone. No one had to see this embarrassing display. The American would never be able to live it down if anyone else had been there to see this. Imagine the gossip that would spring from this, the nations laughing among themselves because America got frightened by a rabbit. No thanks, America had no wish to allow any living soul to know about this.

Staring at the rabbit contemplatively, America briefly wondered why the rabbit hadn't run away yet. It was a rather small rabbit with dark fur, it blended very well with its surroundings here. But why wasn't it afraid of America? Even more surprisingly, the rabbit hopped nearer to the nation, its tiny nose wiggling as it smelled America.

The nation was surprised by the animal's reaction. Was it possible that this rabbit had never seen a human (or a nation to be more correct) and thus felt no fear? But rabbits were by nature very timid creatures. So why wasn't this little bunny afraid of America?

America crouched low and slowly extended his hand towards the inquisitive lagomorph. The rabbit raised itself onto its hind legs and curiously nibbled on America's glove. America couldn't help but laugh softly, "Hey little buddy, you sure are very brave. I don't think I've ever seen a rabbit that wasn't timid."

The rabbit dropped back onto his four feet and hopped closer to America, suddenly nipping the edge of America's bomber jacket. Then the rabbit was off, sprinting into the bushes.

America stared after the rabbit dumbly. Just what exactly had that little creature been trying to do by nipping at his jacket? It didn't look like a carrot, right? America studied his jacket briefly before a rustle of the bushes caused him to look up again.

The little rabbit had returned. It hopped quickly over to America and nipped his jacket again. It then hopped away but this time it did not disappear into the bushes. It stopped and looked at America.

Now the American was officially confused. What did this rabbit want from him? He slowly stood up and asked perplexed, "What's up bunny, what d'ya want?"

The lagomorph hopped closer to America and bit into his jeans, tugging at it slightly.

"You want me... to follow you?" America looked at the rabbit incredulously, how in the world had he managed to guess the rabbit's intent? No, the real question was why...

Why should he follow a rabbit? Where did the rabbit want to lead him? For what reason...?

A thought occurred to America. Did the rabbit know that America was a nation, not a human? When America had been really young and had still lived in the prairies, he had befriended many rabbits. They had all been timid at first but once they smelled America they had instinctively trusted the young nation. England later explained to the small colony that the animals knew the difference between a nation and a human by the smell and that animals tended to trust the nations more, especially the younger ones.

So the rabbit knew that America was a nation and wanted him to follow it. But why would... wait, did it perhaps know that he was looking for England? It seemed a bit far-fetched but wasn't it already weird that a rabbit was trying to lead him to somewhere?

"Do you know where England is?" America questioned the rabbit, of course not really expecting an answer from the lagomorph. Last thing he needed was to discover that animals could talk.

Feeling something tugging at his jeans, America looked down and saw that the rabbit was trying to get his attention again. It hopped away and then looked back at the American.

Deciding that he had no other option really, America took a few steps after the rabbit. The rabbit hopped away from America and began leading the way. America followed the rabbit, wondering at the back of his mind how no one was going to believe him that he got help from a rabbit to find England. It sounded unbelievable to his own ears.

After a few minutes of following the rabbit, climbing up and down the landscape of the mountain, America felt a few scarce rain drops fall from the sky. Great, the rain was going to start soon and America still hadn't found England.

The rabbit looked up as well but continued hopping, stopping only once to scratch its left ear. They were climbing up another slope again when the rabbit suddenly sped up and rushed to the top. America followed after the rabbit quickly and when he reached the top the rain had begun to pour heavier.

America looked around and caught a glimpse of the rabbit before it disappeared from view behind a boulder. America walked over to the boulder, calling out over the rain, "Hey, not so quick!"

When he came around the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks. Through the downpour of the rain America could faintly see a little child huddled under a bush... wait, that was England! The rabbit appeared next to the little nation and nudged him lightly with his nose. England stirred slowly and looked up sleepily. He looked at the rabbit quizzically and then he turned to look around him.

Time seemed to literally freeze. America was staring at England and the Brit froze as he quickly realized who stood in front of him. The only movement was the constant descent of the raindrops from the dark foreboding clouds. Then many things happened in a very short span of time.

England bolted from his spot, trying to get away from America as quickly as possible. The rabbit, startled by the sudden movement, disappeared into the bushes. America went after the little island nation, determined on not allowing England to escape to another place again. But there was one thing both nations forgot.

They were near a cliff. And England was heading right towards it and despite the sudden adrenaline rush, England hadn't managed to become fully aware of his surroundings yet. America noticed the cliff and shouted in alarm.

"ENGLAND, WATCH OUT!"

It was a moment too late that England realized where he was heading to. He tried skidding to a halt but the ground, thanks to the rain, had become muddy and slippery. England slipped on the ground and he was falling off-

America launched himself forward without a second thought and blindly reached out for England. He caught hold of the Brit's arm but also slipped on the mud. The American managed to grasp a rock that was jutting out of the ground and stopped himself and England from falling into the ominous darkness that the ravine promised.

But just barely.

Thanks to the rock, America had only gone slightly over the cliff and most of his body remained on the ground. However England, arm still held by the American, was dangling right over the darkness of the ravine. He was staring at the steep drop below him, trembling in fear as the realization hit him just how close he had been to falling into the ravine. A tiny whimper escaped from his throat and he closed his eyes tightly.

The North American nation was breathing heavily, his mind buzzing with the adrenaline that had been pumped into his bloodstream. America made sure he had a firm grip on the rock and then started hoisting England up. Once he was sure that neither nations were going to fall over the cliff, America quickly pulled himself and the Brit back onto the ground and smothered England in a fierce embrace.

"Fuck England, you scared the shit out of me!" America burst out angrily, his shoulders trembling at the thought at just how close he had been to lose England. Just one millisecond too late and the small island nation would have been gone. Who knew how deep the ravine was?

England flinched at the harsh tone of the American but remained fearfully silent, too afraid to say anything. But England's silence did not satisfy the angry America.

"And why the hell did you run away?" America demanded, not relinquishing his grip on England. The little island nation wasn't going anywhere now! He had some questions to answer and America wanted them now! No more running away!

Tears stung at the corners of England's eyes and he mumbled tearfully, "Because you all hate me."

That caused America to loosen his grip on England and to stare at the little nation incredulously. Had he heard correctly? England had his eyes downcast, trying to hide his tears away from America.

"Who the hell told you that?" America asked, completely astounded by the Brit's statement. Did he really believe that?

"Romano." England answered quietly, not looking directly at America. "First I didn't believe him but then he started saying things that just seemed to add up in my head..."

_That damn Italian!_ America thought furiously, promising himself to have a little "chat" with that guy later. How dare Romano feed such lies to England? What was that guy's problem? But that could wait, now he had to concentrate on England and get those false ideas out of his head.

"Whatever he said, it isn't true! Don't believe a single word he said!" America insisted, making England turn his head to look at the American directly.

"Then why have you all been passing me from nation to nation if it isn't because you hate me?" England asked sadly, not seeming completely convinced by America's reassuring words.

Wait... no one had told England? America was surprised and annoyed by this. Why the hell had no one taken the time to explain to England what was going on? Hadn't it occurred to anyone that England would start to have those kinds of questions as time progressed?

"We were doing that so that you would meet a lot of us and maybe gather more memories that way. We never did that because we hate you. Haven't you ever asked anyone about that?" America questioned, wondering why England had remained silent about this thing. It had obviously been on his mind for a long time.

"I...I never really got the chance. Every time I tried something happened or I thought that maybe the other didn't know." England answered and then as an afterthought, he added, "The only nation I told was Romano."

Aha, and then Romano had gone and manipulated England's uncertainty which caused the Brit to flee. America frowned darkly at that and shaking his head, told England, "England, never ever believe that we hate you. You can be damn sure that I never hated you. When you have this kind of stuff on your mind, just say it! Always say what's on your mind, it often helps clear up confusions." America then pulled England back into bear-hug and muttered, "And don't ever run away like that again, got that! I was really worried."

England made a muffled response but America couldn't hear what he was saying so he allowed the Brit to pull back slightly. England was gasping for breath, America had typically forgotten his strength again and had unintentionally squeezed the air out of the island nation.

"America?" England asked inaudibly after recovering his breath.

"Yeah?"

"So, I... didn't hurt the others in the past?"

America jarred at the unexpected question. Oh crap, England just had to ask one of the most difficult questions... well it wasn't difficult to answer in itself, but the answer was certainly not the one England would want to hear. England had yet to learn that he had been an empire and what it meant to be an empire.

"Um... I, well... later-" America sputtered incoherently. England frowned at America and the American spotted anger flashing in his vivid green eyes.

"No, stop saying later!" England snapped, now glaring at America angrily. "I want to know, I'm sick of all of you avoiding my questions and always telling me "later" or "not now"! Why aren't any of you telling me anything?"

England's angry outburst caught America off guard. Was England really so angry that he was being withheld information about himself and his past? On hindsight, America would also be angry if he was in England's situation. The Brit was scowling darkly as he struggled out of America's arms. He stood in front of America with crossed arms, the intensity of his gaze not lessening.

"I know I used to be older, bigger. I saw a photo of myself at Japan's house. I also know that my nightmares are memories that I have somehow lost, the same going for my scars. I know that I am historically connected to a lot of nations. But I don't know what happened. I don't know why I'm suddenly like this when I used to be different. I don't know how I'm connected to each nation because hardly anyone bothers telling me a bit of my old self. And I'm sick and tired of it. I want to know what happened! Don't I deserve the TRUTH?" England demanded furiously, clenching his fists tightly in frustration. He glowered at the stunned American.

If England wasn't so small, he wouldn't have looked so comical and adorable in his furious state. But America knew better than to laugh at the Brit. It was clearly obvious that what the nations had done up until now wasn't correct, England was not healing. Was that why he had stopped growing so many months ago? Was the lack of growth linked to the fact that England knew next to nothing about who he had been in the past?

America sat back and ran a hand through his wet hair tiredly, only mildly aware that it was still raining. Luckily it wasn't raining too heavily anymore, though both nations were quite drenched to the bone.

"England, I know you're very angry but you have to know that we were doing it for your own goo-"

"I KNOW!" England yelled angrily. "But I personally DO NOT see what good all this did-"

"England, listen!" America ordered, grabbing England's shoulders so that the Brit was gazing at him directly in the eyes. "I know now that it was no good what we did, but you can't forget that we were never against you. We only did what we thought was good for you at the time."

"It still didn't help." England muttered bitterly, breaking eye contact with America and staring at the ground resentfully.

"I know." America sighed and stood up from the ground, picking the small island nation up with him in the process.

England immediately started protesting and struggling in America's arm. "Hey, I don't want to be carried around like a child. Let go of me!" America ignored the little nation's struggles and took his bomber jacket off, wrapping it around England. Hopefully the jacket would stop England from becoming colder and running in the danger of falling sick.

"Look England, I have to bring you back to your brothers and you're probably too tired to nation-hop by yourself." America hoped he had enough energy left to nation-hop back to England's house, he was starting to feel very tired again. The sugar-rush and the caffeine were wearing off now and America felt the tiredness creep up in his bones again. Perhaps he would have to nation-hop gradually instead of the immediate version. So it was going to take more than a couple minutes to reach England's house. "And anyway," America finally said, "Maybe I could answer some of your questions that you've been asking yourself for a while. I can try to answer them."

The little nation stopped his half-hearted struggles and quickly gazed at America. "Really?"

"Yeah." America grinned reassuringly at England. "I mean, you do deserve to know more about what happened before." He started walking away from the cliff and down the slope.

"So... what happened to me?" England asked warily, still unsure whether America was serious about answering his questions or not.

America winced a bit at the question and admitted, "It's really not nice. Are you really sure you want to know what happened to you?"

The Brit nodded decisively, a determined look on his face. America really was not comfortable with saying it but if not him, no one else would tell England. And that would further aggravate England. So America had to say it, England deserved to know what had happened all those months ago.

"Okay, so..." America began hesitantly, wondering how exactly he should tell England what happened to him, "you...you… tried to kill yourself. With poison. And the poison you swallowed made you smaller and made you lose all your memories." There, it was finally out! And America no longer cared if he wasn't supposed to tell England. England had to know the truth.

England was looking quite shocked and appalled by America's answer. "...Kill myself? B-but why? Why would I finish my own life?" England asked perplexed, having never thought of that possibility. Then again he had never considered the concept of suicide until now, he probably hadn't remembered it yet.

The American shrugged his shoulders, "Beats me, no one has a clue why you tried. You just did and you forgot all your memories in the process." America felt some anger well inside of him. He still hadn't entirely forgiven the previous England for his attempt in ending his life.

"And you're angry at me for that?" England suddenly asked, staring at America's face intently.

The question pulled America from his thoughts abruptly. He looked down at England in shock and he questioned, "Why would you think that?"

"Because you look angry right now." England replied, frowning at the American.

"Oh." He had forgotten to mask his anger. America quickly corrected himself and smiled, "Nah, I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at the England who tried killing himself."

"My older self?"

"Yeah, the original one."

England seemed a little disturbed and dismayed by the answer. "But if he's the original... what am I then?"

"You're still the same England. Just with less memories." America answered promptly.

"But will I really be the same when I get all my memories back?"

America shrugged helplessly at that. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. I don't think it really matters."

The Brit was silent for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face. Then he questioned, "Did I really hurt Spain? Romano mentioned something about his Armada..."

"Err, yeah, you did hurt Spain... a lot" America answered uneasily, but then hastily added, "But it was during a time where a lot of nations were hurting others to be stronger. Don't think you were the only one."

England was unhappy with the answer but seemed a bit more relaxed when America told him he hadn't been the sole one to hurt the others. He still looked perturbed by America's answer but decided not to pry further today. England was sure there was more to this part of his past but he wasn't sure if he wanted to confront that part of him yet. Not today anyway. However there was one question to that subject he wanted the answer to. He asked carefully, "Did I hurt you?"

The American really wondered if England was coming up with those questions on purpose. Why did he have to answer these uncomfortable questions? England had really a knack of asking exactly those questions that America didn't really want to answer. "Well, to tell the truth... I'm not really comfortable with answering that question..."

"Because I did hurt you." England concluded, looking sullen.

"But hey, that was a freaking long time ago. Now we're allies!" America grinned at England, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"Allies?"

"Yeah, you know... friends and stuff." America explained brightly, mildly aware that they were no longer in the Norwegian mountains. He was now crossing an open plain and he was extremely thankful that it was no longer raining, though it was still slightly chilly. The American continued his gradual nation-hopping.

"Friends... so you don't hate me?" England looked at America closely, his thick eyebrows drawn down in worry.

America swiftly shook his head. "I never hated you England. Sure, you were sometimes grumpy and difficult to handle, but I never hated you. I can't say the same for the others for sure but I definitely never did."

England let out a relieved sigh. America realized that the thought of him hating England must have really pained the Brit if he looked so reassured by America's answer.

"What about my brothers? Do they hate me?" England asked curiously, looking slightly apprehensive.

"Err… I honestly can't say. I'm not them so I can't tell what exactly their thoughts are." America grimaced slightly. It really was difficult to tell with England's brothers. When America had been younger, England had told him a few stories that described how mean and harsh his brothers had been when he himself was smaller and how much of a handful they still were within his empire. America definitely knew that there had been tensions between Ireland and England for quite some time and it certainly sounded like the island nation came from a very dysfunctional family. America stopped and looked around himself, noticing that he was in very familiar surroundings now. Wait, wasn't that England's house over there? He then gazed at England and smiled tiredly, "Why don't you ask them yourself instead? We're at your house now and I'm sure that if you ask them, they will answer your question."

* * *

Wales jerked awake when he heard someone knock loudly on the door. He had dozed off on the armchair, having been too preoccupied to go to bed. Anyway, it's not like there was any spare bed left for the Welsh nation. Not only Scotland, but also Northern Ireland and Ireland had stayed over for the night, the three other brothers having been too tired to nation-hop back to their own homes.

The knocking started up again. Wales heard some sounds upstairs and he distinctly heard someone fall off one of the beds with a thump. It seemed like everyone else in the house was having a light sleep as well. If whoever was knocking didn't stop soon, they would rouse the whole house up and it should be warned that some nations really didn't take it kindly of being woken up like that...

Wait.

What time was it actually? Wales looked at his watch and saw that it was around 3 in the morning...who the bloody hell was knocking at such ungodly hours? And for what reason? That person had to be out of their minds. Wales lurched to his feet, head still a bit dizzy from sleepiness and dragged himself to the door.

He faintly heard Ireland's grumbling voice from upstairs, "Who the feck is at the door?"

"I'll look." Wales answered tiredly, reaching the door. When he opened the door he was so shocked and surprised that he was almost certain that he was hallucinating. He must hallucinating, there was no other logical explanation… his eyes widened with disbelief.

A completely drenched America and England stood in front of him, the American giving him his typical "heroic" grin. "The hero brought England home!" He declared proudly, though his voice sounded very tired as well.

Wales blinked a few times before quickly recovering from his shock and exclaiming loudly, "England!"

America passed England on to Wales, who hugged the daylights out of the little nation. He was so relieved to see that England was back home and safe.

There were swift footsteps behind him and Ireland and Scotland appeared next to Wales, each not able to believe England was back home and safe.

"Where was he?" Wales looked up at the American.

"At Norway's house..." America answered drowsily, starting to sway from side to side slightly. He was beginning to feel dizzy, the last bit of his energy leaving his legs.

Suddenly he crumbled, all the tiredness of nation-hopping catching up with him. America felt completely drained of energy. He felt someone catch him before he hit the ground, to which he was grateful. He then heard Wales mutter under his breath, "Scotland, Ireland, a little help here please?"

Both Celtic nations stepped forward and each put one of America's arms over their shoulder, supporting the exhausted American.

"Have you been nation-hopping all the time until now?" Ireland asked incredulously, staring at America in surprise and worry. There were dangers after all if one nation-hopped too often and pushed their bodies over their limits.

"I had some soda and coffee before jumping over the pond again." America mumbled sleepily, his eyelids beginning to droop. He couldn't help it, the tiredness had hit him so quickly that he was barely able to stay conscious. America just felt fatigue pulling him more and more into a state of deep sleep.

"That does not replace sleep America. That's really irresponsible and dangerous of you." Wales admonished before reluctantly adding, "...But thank you for bringing England home. Even if it was dangerous."

"Well, I got England back to you. That's all that countssssssssssss to meee..." America slurred slightly, his exhausted brain becoming increasingly unable to formulate full sentences. He strained his eyes to stay awake but his body was screaming one thing: complete shutdown.

"I guess America will have to stay here too. He pushed himself too far, he will need a while to sleep off all that tiredness." Scotland noted, noticing America's growing unresponsiveness to his surroundings. "I think we should dry him off first, he's completely soaked and bound to get pneumonia like this."

"Was it raining at Norway's house?" Ireland wondered out loud, shifting to better support America's weight on his shoulder.

"...Yeah..." America barely mumbled.

"Did I miss something?" A sleepy voice mumbled behind all the nations. Northern Ireland walked up to them, having been woken by all the ruckus downstairs. He stopped abruptly as he took in the unexpected sight in front of him, England in Wales' arms and America being supported by both Ireland and Scotland.

Wales turned to look at the younger brother and handed him England. "Okay North, you keep an eye on England while we get this American changed into dry clothes so that he won't come down with a cold or something worse."

He returned his attention to America. "Try staying awake a bit longer until you're in dry clothes, then you can crash, alright?" It didn't seem like America could hear him by this point so the Welsh nation signalled to Scotland and Ireland to follow him. Scotland quietly complained about the American being too heavy and Ireland grumbled in agreement but nevertheless, both nations dragged/supported America and followed after Wales.

Northern Ireland and England remained behind in silence. Then Northern Ireland carried England into the living room, at loss at what he should say to his brother. After a few minutes, England began struggling in the younger nation's arms. Northern Ireland looked down at the Brit in surprise.

"Put me down please, I don't like being carried around like a child." England complained, trying to get out of Northern Ireland's grasp.

"So I should put you down just so you can run away from us again?" Northern Ireland demanded and raised an eyebrow, holding England firmly in his arms. There was no way he was allowing the Brit to run away again.

"No, I'm not going to run away." England shook his head in denial, gazing directly into his younger brother's eyes.

Northern Ireland sighed deeply and sat down on his knees, just about to let England go. But before fully releasing the Brit, Northern Ireland swiftly pulled the smaller nation into a tight hug.

England was startled at the other's actions and was completely perplexed. "W-why are you...?"

"Don't run away like that ever again." Northern Ireland mumbled quietly, hugging England closer to him. "You had every one of us worried, you practically had all the European nations looking for you! I was so scared that you were hurt… don't you ever do something like that again!"

The little nation was surprised by that outburst. Had he caused the others to worry about him so much? Worried? But then... they couldn't possibly hate him. Hatred and worry didn't go hand in hand, that much England was aware of. Still, a lurking thought of doubt remained at the back of his mind, unwilling to release its tight grip on the island nation. England needed to ask to be absolutely rid of that nagging thought...

"But... why? Why were you all so worried about me?" England finally asked quietly, not daring himself to look at Northern Ireland directly.

"Because we care about you." Wales replied for Northern Ireland.

Both England and Northern Ireland looked up to see the Welsh nation enter the room. Followed by him was Ireland and Scotland, America still being supported on their shoulders. The American was now in dry clothes but he seemed to be completely out of it, his head lolling around like a ragdoll. He was going to sleep for quite some time now, the sheer amount of tiredness had to be slept off after all.

Scotland and Ireland pushed America onto the sofa, the elder brother gasping lightly, "For Christ's sake, Meiriceá should lay off the hamburgers for a while."

Wales ignored the two older brothers' pointless complaining and walked over to England. The Welsh nation was wearing an unreadable expression, something that put England at unease. Was he in trouble? He couldn't really tell. But Wales did seem to be the strictest of his brothers.

England was suddenly picked up by Wales but before he could start protesting again in being picked up, Wales sat him down on the armchair. Wales crouched low so that he and England were at eye-level. All the others fell silent as they watched what was going to happen.

After a long minute of silence, England fidgeted uncomfortably. Why wasn't Wales saying anything? Why was he just staring at England and doing nothing else? He was starting to feel uneasy…

"England?"

The Brit jumped at his name.

"First of all, I would like to know if you're alright." Wales was looking at him calmly, his eyes betraying no other emotion. England nodded his head uncertainly, not feeling any more at ease than before.

"Secondly, why did you run away?" Wales questioned sternly, the abruptness of his tone causing England to flinch. There, now he could in Wales' demanding eyes the anger and worry that he had also seen in America's eyes. His brother was not happy with him.

But then England felt some bitterness well up inside of him. Why the hell should he be feeling scared or sorry in response to his brother's anger? The reason why England had been denied to know the truth about his fate for so long stood right in front of him. In a way, the reason why he ran away due to all the confusion and uncertainty was because of Wales. The Welsh nation was the source of his troubles, so to say.

"And why didn't you allow the others to tell me anything about myself?" England demanded sullenly, crossing his arms as he glowered at his brother. Wales looked quite surprised and taken aback by the quick change in England's behaviour.

"I had my reasons..." Wales reasoned cautiously, obviously wanting to avoid the subject. Watching England closely, Wales persisted in his questioning, "So why did you run away?"

"Because I thought you all hated me." England looked away, not wanting to meet anyone's gaze. He already suspected that they would react similarly to America.

"WHAT?"Ireland, Scotland and Northern Ireland exclaimed simultaneously, approaching England with a look of disbelief on their faces. Wales looked shocked and then frowned darkly.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Wales asked in a controlled voice, managing to keep his disbelief in check better than the others.

"I kept being passed on from nation to nation without any explanation and it just seemed like you preferred to be rid of me... and then Romano told me how you all hated me because of how I used to be in the past..." England trailed off, shrugging his shoulders helplessly.

Wales shook his head, looking sympathetic. "England, the only reason you were passed from nation to nation was because we hoped you would get your memories back quicker that way. There was nothing else to it."

"I know now." England mumbled quietly, sighing softly. He then looked at Wales with upset eyes and demanded accusingly, "Why didn't you tell me that I'm like this because I tried killing myself? Why did you stop the others from telling me anything about it for so long? Why did you leave me in the dark for so long about this?"

The Welsh blinked in shock and surprise, clearly not expecting England to be aware of that piece of information. "H-how... who told you that?" Wales demanded, looking unusually perplexed.

"America." England answered smugly, crossing his arms and nodding his head over to America on the sofa.

Wales frowned and looked behind him at the sleeping American, glaring angrily at the superpower. England faintly heard Wales muttering crossly under his breath but he couldn't make out what his brother was saying. He looked rather irritated and annoyed.

Scotland laughed lightly, "Wales, you knew you couldn't keep the truth from England forever. It was bound to leak out sooner or later."

"But it's just so predictable that it had to be **him **blabbering it out." Wales grumbled under his breath. He sighed and then turned to England. "Alright, so now you know why you're like this and without memories."

"But there is still so much... that I don't understand. That I yet can't remember. There are too many things I have to catch up with, it's almost confusing." England shook his head, his eyes expressing his doubt and uncertainty. "Romano told me that you hate me because I hurt you all so badly in the past... is it true?"

There was a stunned silence in the room, all brothers looking at England in a mixture of astonishment and disbelief. Northern Ireland frowned and quickly strode over to England, wrapping his arms around the smaller nation and pulling him into a hug. Northern Ireland growled fiercely, "I've never hated you England! Never! And don't let anyone else convince you otherwise! I could never hate you."

England blinked in surprise at the younger nation's fierceness, but looking over Northern Ireland's shoulder and judging by his elder brothers' expressions, it didn't seem to be a common occurrence for the youngest brother to be this brutally honest. Both Scotland and Wales chuckled quietly at the display while Ireland scowled, something which slightly surprised England.

Wales looked at England and with a smile, he shook his head, "England, we don't hate you. We are brothers, yes, so it is natural that we have our fights and spats here and there. And there certainly times where I disliked you for the things you did, but hate? I don't hate you and I never truly did."

Scotland stepped forward and grinned widely, "For my part, I don't hate you either. Sure you sometimes really annoyed me in the past and we also fought each other a lot, but I don't hold any grudges against you. We were young and we often did stupid things in the past. But hating you was definitely not one of those things."

Ireland was watching them, a bit amused and touched by the scene in front him. He had spent centuries fighting England and Ireland honestly never thought that the day would come where the Brit would ask his brothers whether they hated him or not. The question had never been asked before but then again, Ireland had to remind himself that they weren't dealing with the same England. He then noticed that Scotland and Wales were looking at him meaningfully, as if expecting something from him. Ireland realized he had to say something as well.

"I... err..." Ireland began awkwardly, not really knowing what he should say. He had been constantly fighting England since a long time and there were times where both sides really wanted to hurt the other. But now... did he really hate England? "I suppose... I don't hate you either Sasana, what kind of older brother would that make me?" Ireland grinned sheepishly.

"See England, none of us hate you." Scotland said cheerfully, beaming at England. England smiled widely, letting out a sigh of relief. Northern Ireland released the Brit from his tight hug and barely stifled a yawn. England unwillingly yawned shortly afterward.

Scotland laughed and chanted, "Looks like some of us need to go to bed. Especially the younger ones!" Then he too bit back an unexpected yawn.

Wales smirked at Scotland and shook his head, "All of us should be asleep now. God knows how late it is, but we best be getting some sleep now."

"But I have something to ask..." England started to say, unsure of himself. He slid down the armchair and gazed up at his brothers and continued, "Can you all please start telling me more about myself? I don't like this feeling of... not knowing anything about me. I do get most of my memories back through dreams and nightmares but they alone are not enough to help me remember who I am."

"Of course we'll do!" Scotland exclaimed, reaching down to ruffle England's hair. England frowned and shook Scotland's hand off.

"And stop messing up my hair, I don't even understand why you all keep doing it." England huffed, trying to flatten his unruly hair again. It was true in the end, an alarming number of ruffling up England's hair for no apparent reason. Didn't they see that his hair was wild enough without any kind of encouragement?

"Ha, that really sounded like the Sasana we all know." Ireland remarked, chuckling under his breath.

Scotland laughed again and patted England's head. "It's called brotherly love England, it's nothing to get excited over." He then proceeded to yawn again.

"So, there's England's bed and one guest bed. We're 5 nations. Let's decide who will sleep in which bed now." Wales noted, noticing the sleepiness in the other brothers' eyes.

"I'm not sharing with North, got that?" Ireland quickly added and crossed his arms, not looking directly at the younger brother.

Though Northern Ireland definitely looked the sleepiest of the bunch, he managed to glare bitterly at Ireland and reply tensely, "I was going to share with Scotland anyway."

"Alright, alright," Wales sighed, shaking his head at the two Irish nations. "England, Ireland and I will take one bed and Scotland and North take the other. Everyone happy now?"

The brothers nodded in agreement to the arrangement. England was looking at Ireland and Northern Ireland in confusion. He was surprised by the sudden tenseness that appeared between the two red-heads, why were they so hostile towards each other? Something had happened between them...

He really would have wanted to ask why these two seemed to dislike each other so much. But he quickly realized that he was really tired, now that the present issue seemed more or less resolved, England's previous weariness returned full force. He didn't even attempt to protest when Wales picked him up.

Oh well, there was always another day to ask, right?

* * *

_England found himself walking down an unknown cobbled street that had a strange sense of familiarity to it. The Brit was naturally getting used to that kind of feeling, the feeling of not recognizing something and yet having that infuriating sense to having seen it before. It frustrated England greatly but eventually he had to learn to deal with the fact that he was going to have several memories like that. At least he should be glad that he hadn't landed into another battle._

_Although there was no fighting going on, there was a great deal of shouting and the sound of people running. There seemed to be a commotion somewhere, but England was not sure where it was exactly. He knew that the original England had to be somewhere here or he wouldn't be in this memory. The question was where was he?_

_The Brit looked around, trying to identify the place he was in. Of course it was familiar but England could not remember having been here in his recent memories. So it had to be a place he hadn't been to in a long time. Perhaps even in a different time period._

_Hearing some shouts from his right, England turned down the street and followed the noise until he arrived at the source of all the turmoil that was going on. He arrived at a place where there was a large crowd gathered and in front of them was a large expanse of water._

_-The ocean-. His mind helpfully supplied. -You're in a harbour-. England frowned and looked around. What was going on here? Why were so many people gathered here and what were they looking at? What were they talking about? England's curiosity only continued to grow._

_The island nation approached the crowd of people, wondering what they were all getting excited over. England managed fairly easily to weave through the crowd to the front where he could clearly see what was going on._

_There were three large ships in the water and men wearing little cloth and feathers in their hair were on them, dumping boxes off the ships. Angry shouts could be heard from the men and the crowd around England was murmuring, in awe of what was happening in front of them. _

_The strangely clothed men started cheering as the last boxes were pushed into the water, throwing their arms in the air and pumping their fists. England thought the whole thing strange, not understanding why the boxes were being pushed off the ships in the first place, why these men seemed so strangely dressed and why the crowd appeared shocked and awed at the same time by the men's actions._

_The Brit frowned and shook his head. There were too many unanswered questions. He should just stand back and watch what happens and perhaps some of his questions would be answered along the way. _

_Suddenly a teenager from among the men jumped up and yelled at the crowd, "Down with the Tea Act! Down with the Tea Act!"_

_The crowd's murmuring became louder and some people began to cheer with the men, chanting loudly along with the men, "Down with the Tea Act! Down with the Tea Act!"_

_England could only but wonder what was meant by that. He had no clue what the others were cheering about. Then a cold chill ran down England's spine, causing him to shiver. He instinctively looked behind him and saw a dark-cloaked figure at the very back of the crowd, unnoticed by everyone._

"_We'll see about that, boy!" A voice hissed and the cloaked figure ran away from the crowd, easily disappearing into the streets. England had a suspicion that that had been England. The original one._

_And he had looked really angry. England wondered what this was all about. The surroundings around him started to fade away, a new surrounding slowly emerging from the shadows. The harbour changed to an office and England was immediately aware that there were two people in the room._

"_What is the meaning of this?" A voice spat and England turned to see the original England fuming at another person. That person... was the teenager who had first shouted "Down with the Tea Act!" in the harbour. He still wore the strange clothing and had feathers in his hair. But otherwise the other person remained unknown to England, though he could swear that he had seen that face somewhere before. Why was he so familiar to England? Who was he? _

_The teen shrugged nonchalantly, not directly meeting the older England's gaze._

"_My people are sick of your taxes. Can't you see when enough is enough? We're getting sick of all this." The teenager replied, his expression bitter._

"_YOUR people?" Older England snorted loudly and stalked around the teen. "Since when have they become your people? You are just a mere colony!"_

"_We want to be independent. No, I want to be independent. Free." The teenager stared at older England squarely in the eyes, determination flashing in his blue eyes. England wondered where he had seen those blue eyes before, they seemed so familiar. Gah, this was really getting frustrating! _

_The older England seemed momentarily shocked, spluttering incoherently, "Y-you cannot possibly b-be s-serious-"_

"_I'm completely serious England." The teen cut him off abruptly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm not little anymore, I want to take care of myself."_

_England could see that the older version of himself was attempting to recover from his shock, to compose himself. Like a mask being put on, older England's green eyes suddenly became colder and unfeeling._

"_Well I can't give you that." Older England replied, looking at the teenager with hard eyes. "You belong to the empire."_

_The teen blinked once before smiling grimly, cocking his head to one side. "Then I guess I must fight for my freedom."_

_The room and the two people suddenly disappeared into the darkness, leaving England all alone. The little nation was quite confused, wondering what this memory was about and why was he filled with such dread. What was the meaning of this memory?_

_He became aware of several whisperings, some sounding harsh and others sounding desperate. England tried to make out the words and was a bit worried to find that the voice sounded like his. But it sounded darker, more menacing and hateful._

_**That brat dares to defy you!**_

_**Do not back down, he's clearly challenging you.**_

_**You're an empire and he's just a measly colony. Show him his place!**_

_**Don't you dare show weakness in front of him!**_

_**You must destroy him. **_

_**Destroy his spirit!**_

_**If he breaks away from you, the whole world will see just how pitifully weak you are!**_

_**You don't want that to happen do you?**_

_**Prove to the world how strong you are!**_

_**Don't allow this stupid and ignorant brat to walk away unharmed, he must be punished for his cockiness. Who does he think he is, challenging an empire like you?**_

_**He must be taught a lesson, how dare he be so ungrateful? After all the things you did for him...**_

_**You should be able to put him back in his place. You're a strong empire after all, this should be easy for you.**_

_**But can you do it?**_

_**If you can't, then you're a weakling. A weakling that should have been killed off along with the other weaklings... you don't deserve to live if you're a weakling.**_

_**You deserve no respect.**_

_**Nothing. **_

_**So are you the little Albion who should have died with a spear through his worthless heart?**_

_**Or are you the British Empire, the greatest empire the world has ever seen? The empire of all empires?**_

_**You're not a weak empire, are you? **_

_**You haven't become weak lately.**_

_**You don't want to be lonely again. Show your strength and drive this spoiled brat into submission, make him regret for having ever dared to stand up against you.**_

_**Weakling...**_

_England shook his head furiously, trying to rid himself of the venomous voice. He didn't like it, didn't like what it was whispering to him, the original him. The voice was dripping with hatred and malice and it caused England's heart to ache. He recognized the voice now, it was same dark voice that has been plaguing England for the past few months. The previous England was also tortured by the dark voice? How long has it been around and why did it take such pleasure in hurting England? _

_The little nation stood his ground firmly and stared defiantly into the darkness, shouting loudly against the voice, "Leave me ALONE!"_

_Suddenly the whisperings stopped, the dark voice fell silent. The silence was liberating, England felt he could think clearer and with a lighter heart now that the voice had stopped. But unfortunately that did not mean the dark voice was gone. Sadly it started talking again._

_**Who are you?**_

_**The new England? **_

_**You look so pathetically weak, even weaker than the original.**_

_**You are nothing like the original-**_

"_True." England cut the dark voice off, glaring off into the darkness. "I may not be like the original. I'm different. And I'm happy that I am."_

_Then England turned and started to walk away, away from the dark voice. The voice seemed to have weakened, reduced to whispering._

_**How dare you talk like that to me…?**_

"_Go away." England continued walking, ignoring what the voice was faintly whispering. "The old England may have once needed you...but I don't need you. Not anymore."_

_The dark voice suddenly snickered sinisterly. __**That's what you think you pathetic weakling. **_

_All of the sudden, the ground started trembling under England's feet. The little nation stumbled and fell forward, landing on his knees and hands. The ground was starting to crumble beneath his hands. In panic, England struggled to his feet and fell back._

_Long strings of images burst out of the ground and shot up high in the air, towering over the small nation. England gaped at the wall of images, each turning out to be a film of lost memories. The images started changing, becoming different images and England noticed that each of these images had different nations and people in them. The Brit backed away as more and more strings of images sprang out of the ground and stretched upwards. The images formed a thick, impenetrable wall and England was unable to pass them. The shadow of the dark voice appeared not far from the island nation and leered at him. _

_**Do you see all those images England? Do you see the nations in those images, in those memories you used to possess? Look at their pained expressions, look at their bleeding wounds and look at the tears pouring out of their eyes. Do you know why they all look like that? **__The dark voice cackled loudly. __**Know that you were the source of their misery, the cause of their grief and pain. Know that this is all your fault!**_

_The multitude of images surged forwards, the strings moving so that England was completely surrounded by the images. The memories started swirling around the nation, moving closer so that England could clearly see what each image was showing him. England could now see up close the various nations in those memories and he could see all too well the expressions they were wearing. The images drew closer and started moving faster, starting to move to something similar like a tornado. The memories started flashing within England's mind._

_He saw a chained Spain in a dingy cell, glaring at him angrily and yelling._

_He saw China with wild, unkempt hair, on his knees and sobbing dryly as he stood over the broken Asian nation._

_He saw France staring at him with dull eyes, silent tears streaming down his face. Behind him stood a crowd that had gathered around a bonfire and inside the fire, a young woman was burning._

_He saw a young Hong Kong frowning at him resentfully, drawing further into a dark room as the colony refused to approach him._

_He saw a more-dead-than-alive Ireland in ripped clothes who was glowering hatefully at him, barely supporting his bony body against the wall of a stone cottage._

_He saw America in a blue uniform on the ground, choking on the smoke that was escaping from his mouth._

_He saw a dark-skinned woman with a red spot on her forehead on the dusty ground, scowling up to him as blood slowly trickled down her cheek from a wound at her temple._

_He saw a young child looking like Canada, huddled in the corner of an empty house, crying bitterly and hugging a stuffed polar bear as the colony fervently shook his head, refusing to acknowledge the one who stood in front of him._

_He saw an enraged Scotland screaming at him, the Scot bleeding heavily from a shoulder wound where an arrow had embedded itself inside. Behind him were fields aflame, the hungry fires reaching towards the skies as they burned everything in their way._

_He saw a dark-skinned gaunt man collapsing on the ground in front of him, blood seeping out of his mouth as the nation coughed violently and desperately tried getting the oxygen into his burning lungs before losing consciousness._

_He saw two young brown-haired colonies in soldier uniforms in a muddy trench, the rain pouring heavily down on them. One of the colonies who England recognized as having seen today was lying lifelessly on the ground while the second unfamiliar colony was by his side and shaking his shoulder roughly, calling out his name frantically._

"_S-stop! I don't want to see anymore!" England cried out, closing his eyes and shaking his head fiercely to get those horrible images out of his head. "STOP IT!" But the images refused to slow down, instead they only seemed to becoming increasingly faster and faster._

_From outside the spiralling images came a shout and suddenly a part of the spiralling images was destroyed, the memories falling down upon England like pieces of a glass. The Brit instinctively covered his head to protect himself from the shards of glasses, shutting his eyes tightly._

"_England, get out of here!" A familiar voice yelled urgently. England opened his eyes and looked at the gaping hole in the tower of images. The images had slowed down to a stop, each image flickering as if broken. They were shaking slightly, as if the tower was about to collapse. England looked outside the hole and saw Broken England with his musket, having used the bayonet of his weapon to jab into the tower of images and breaking it._

_Broken England reached through the hole and grabbed England's wrist, starting to pull the small nation out of the unstable building. "Come on, you have to get away!" Broken England insisted. England followed the super-personality and jumped out of the tower, the building collapsing to the ground without a sound and disappearing into puffs of smoke behind him. "Run England!" Broken England ordered, pushing England away from him._

_England looked at his super-personality in confusion and asked, "But where to? Where do I run?"_

"_I don't know, just run!" Broken England snapped, nudging England forward with his musket. England, still confused, broke out into running, away from the super-personality. However he still didn't know where he was going and the darkness seemed to stretch out beyond him endlessly. The Brit felt the ground under him shiver and then something large struck him roughly, knocking him to the ground._

_**I don't think so!**__ The dark voice cackled loudly as it rose up from the ground, staring down at the fallen England with gleeful eyes. It was about to reach out for England when Broken England leapt at the dark voice, knocking it back fiercely with his musket._

"_Will you finally leave England alone?" Broken England snarled aggressively, standing in front of England protectively. He glared furiously at the dark voice. England quickly struggled to his feet and tried to stand beside the super-personality, but Broken England moved to block the nation from the dark voice._

_**Will you stop existing then? **__The dark voice sneered, moving closer to the super-personality and the nation. Broken England frowned and raised his musket, aiming it at the dark voice. The dark voice gazed at the musket briefly before it starting to laugh hysterically. __**Can you shoot me you weakling? I doubt you can, no matter how much you pull on the trigger, the bullet will not come out. The musket is useless in your hands, you don't have the will to shoot. **_

"_I don't need to be able to shoot to take you down!" Broken England growled and charged forward, aiming the bayonet at the dark voice's chest. It grinned malevolently at the super-personality and it grabbed the musket tightly. With inhuman strength, the dark voice lifted the musket upwards and threw Broken England over its head. The super-personality was powerless against the dark voice and was easily flung into the air. _

_The super-personality landed hard on the ground, the wind getting knocked out of him. The dark voice now held the musket in its hand, let out a harsh bark of laughter. He pointed the musket at England, who now stood alone and vulnerable. The small nation's eyes widened with fear as he started to back away from the dark voice._

_After a short consideration, the dark voice turned around to aim the musket at Broken England. The super-personality had struggled to his feet and looked like he was about to attack the dark voice again, regardless that he was now disarmed. With the very weapon being pointed at him, Broken England stood still in his place and could only glower resentfully at the dark voice._

_**I can't help but wonder…, **__the dark voice began contemplatively, __**with the musket now in my hands, will it release its bullet? Will it shoot? Hmm, should we try it out? I am dying to try it out… though, of course, I won't be doing the dying. **__The dark voice snickered menacingly, focussing the musket on the super-personality's chest. Before either England or Broken England could do anything against the dark voice, it pulled the trigger. _

_A huge explosion sounded and it was so forceful that England bent down and covered his ears in pain. Only when the sound faded away as weak echoes did England look up again, fearful of what he was about to see._

_The dark voice was nowhere to be seen, having disappeared abruptly. The musket, however, was lying on the ground, left behind. England dared to look beyond the musket to see what had become of Broken England._

_Miraculously the super-personality was still standing. But there was a hole in his chest and Broken England had become deathly pale. His whole form was trembling but the super-personality forced himself to take a wobbly step forwards, making his way towards the forgotten musket. _

_England watched silently as Broken England forced himself to take one shaky step after another, each step causing the hole in his chest to grow and the cracks around the hole to spread their roots further, fissuring like glass._

_When Broken England looked like he was about to collapse, England met the super-personality's eyes and whispered, "How can you still keep going?"_

_Broken England stared at the small nation and after a moment, smiled bitterly, "We may ask the same about your heart. How can a heart, that has been broken, still be able to continue beating? But your broken heart continues beating and I continue walking, despite my wounds." However the super-personality stumbled and fell on his knees not far from the musket, resorting to crawling towards the weapon._

_He sighed tiredly, "But sometimes, it gets tiring of walking. It gets tiring of surviving. I'm nothing but a figment of your imagination. Your heart, however, has a place in the world, outside of your dreams. It exists there. I don't exist. I wish I could protect you better from the pains that await you but it seems like that you must continue this part of the journey alone." Broken England finally reached the musket and laid a hand on it. The super-personality smiled at England ruefully, "I'm sorry England."_

_The cracks deepened and lengthened on Broken England's body and suddenly the super-personality burst into thousands of shards of glass. The shards fell softly to the ground and England could only stare at the heap numbly, feeling a pang of sadness deep inside his heart. But the pieces started changing, becoming shapeless objects which melted together to form two distinct forms._

_These two forms shot upwards, quickly becoming two England-lookalikes. The red uniform appeared on both of them but neither of them were Broken England. And at the same time, they both were Broken England. _

_Once again the large difference between these strange forms was their eyes. The first form had hard, cold eyes, an angry scowl etched on his face. The second form had sad, dull eyes, tear tracks visible on his cheeks. _

_The second form slowly sunk down to his knees, covering his face with his hands as he began to cry. The first form looked down at the other form in disdain and disgust, glaring at the second form._

"_Get up." The first form ordered, his voice harsh and unfeeling._

"_No." The second form mumbled, continuing to cry bitter tears. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly as small sobs shook his frame._

"_Get up you pathetic weakling!" The first form yelled furiously._

"_No." The second form shook his head vehemently._

_The first form frowned darkly and struck the other form roughly on the head. The second form winced and covered his head protectively, a small whimper of pain escaping from his throat. The first form only seemed to get angrier at the pitiful sound._

"_Get up now or I will make you regret that you even exist!" The first form snarled threateningly, grabbing the other's throat and tightening his grip. The second form unwillingly gave in and struggled to his feet, sniffling slightly and tears still streaming down his face._

"_Pick up the musket." The first form ordered then, pointing at the weapon on the ground. The second form looked at the musket blankly before starting to shake his head fiercely._

"_I refuse! I will not shoot, I will not shoot!" The second form cried, gripping his head firmly as if he was in pain. _

"_Pick it up and shoot him!" The first form growled and pointed his finger at England. The small nation jumped in fear, he had been ignored by the two forms up until now and he definitely did not expect that he would actually be the focus of their attention._

_The second form looked at England tearfully and shook his head fiercely. He gritted out, "I will not shoot him."_

"_You have to! Shoot him! Shoot America!" The first form screeched, his voice echoing in the oppressing darkness. The second form shook his head again, refusing to make a move towards the musket. The first form glared hatefully at the other form and he spat, "Fine, then I will do it!" He then reached for the weapon and picked the musket up. The first form then aimed the musket at England._

_The eyes of the second form widened in fear and panic and he lurched forward, screaming, "No, don't!" The first form swung the musket around so that it was pointing at the other form and England saw as the first form pulled on the trigger._

* * *

"STOP!" England cried out as he abruptly woke up from his nightmare. He panted shallowly as he willed his terrified heart to calm down. It took him a few minutes to calm down and truly become aware of where he was. He was in his own house and he was sharing his bed with two of his elder brothers. There was nothing else. No one was hurt. No one died.

No one…

England took in a shuddery breath, closing his eyes to try and chase away the remnants of his nightmare. It was a horrible nightmare, maybe one of the worsts until now. He hated that dark voice, it really enjoyed hurting and scaring England. The Brit now understood that this dark voice, whom he had thought until now was only restricted to his nightmares, was also influencing England outside of his dreams. He realised that on some occasions, the dark voice had spoken to him through his thoughts, tricking England into thinking that these were his own thoughts.

The island nation frowned as he came to that conclusion. But what could he do against the dark voice? Broken England had been the last to stand up against the dark voice and he had been destroyed…

… and from his remains these two forms had arisen. England wasn't entirely sure if they were personalities, he had been a bit too preoccupied to check what they were. England frowned as their conversation came back to his mind.

"_Shoot America!"_

The Brit sat up in the bed, the words disturbing him greatly. Shoot America? Why? What had America done to be shot? England couldn't understand that part of the nightmare, he didn't see why one of the forms had seemed so adamant that America should be shot as well as England himself.

Why shoot America?

* * *

**A/N**

And there you have the longest chapter I have, and will, ever write. 13,750 words for the the chapter alone! The worst part is that the chapter feels like a transition chapter, the next chapter will be a very important turning point in the story, at least in regards to America's and England's relationship. Oh, and the dark voice's identity will be revealed in TWO CHAPTERS! So, last chance to guess what it could be! ^^ I apologise if the part with America and Norway felt a little strained, I was struggling with writer's block and I'm not completely satisfied with that part. But it will have to pass, at least England is back and now he also knows the truth! After 30 chapters, England has finally been told the truth! That took a while, didn't it? Now, I hope that you readers don't think that what France and Japan did during England's stay with them was entirely alright. Especially France, he attempted (and failed) to make England more pro-European which is manipulative and incorrect. But now that England knows the truth, he will demand to know more about who he used to be. Thus begins the difficult journey for England to discover and accept what he did in the past.

Oh, and the rabbit? A bit random, yes, but I do think we shouldn't underestimate them that much. (and there is such a connection between England and America and rabbit) Clearly in the canon, animals are seen following the nations around so there must be something there. And I used to have three rabbits and one of them loved playing tag with me. Honestly, when I would let him out of his cage, he would bump my leg with his nose or nip at my jeans and then take off running. If I didn't follow, he would come back to nudge me again. So I would follow him and the moment I would touch him, he would pause for a moment and then turn on me and start running after me. And he wouldn't stop until he managed to touch me. I'm not the only one that he played that came with, he did it with my sister as well and when I was moving away and I had to give him to a friend, he tried his game out on his new owners. At first they were terrified because they thought he was attacking them, and once I explained that he wanted to play tag, the young brother of my friend started playing the game as well. Maybe what this bunny did here was a bit stretched from reality, but at least we shouldn't underestimate them that much.

Sorry if the part with England and his brothers was quite sappy, it was even sappier before and I tried decreasing the level of sappines but I'm not sure I managed. At least all brothers reacted in their own way, originally they almost all acted the same. Northern Ireland was the sweetest in my opinion, it kind of pains me when I read a fanfic where England is being abused by his brothers that Northern Ireland gets added in the bunch very often. Historically, Northern Ireland basically EXISTS thanks to England. Why would he of all nations want to hurt England? That especially confused me when I read one fanfic where the brothers regularly raped England and Northern Ireland was shown to be the most violent. *shakes head* Sorry, it's just confusing for me.

A brief explanation of what memories England saw if you didn't catch all the references:  
**Spain:** Hmm, that's actually canon. You know, the destruction of his Armada during August 1588 and Spain was stuck in a dingy cell and he is probably yelling at England that he was not going to go down as easily as the Brit thought.  
**China:** This is during the time of the First Opium War, possibly the 20th January 1841 if I'm not mistaken on the date of this memory, and China has probably just learned that Hong Kong is being taken away from him.  
**France:** People should probably recognize this memory, it happened on the 30th May 1431 during the Hundred Years' War and the young woman is Joan of Arc. (Jeanne d'Arc) Canon is making it very clear that France did have feelings for that woman, so it was one memory that stood out the most for me.  
**Hong Kong:** Probably the same time as with China, only from the eyes of a small colony who couldn't understand why he suddenly could no longer be with China and was being taken away.  
**Ireland:** The Great Famine of Ireland or more commonly known outside of Ireland, the Irish Potato Famine which lasted from 1845 to 1852. Numbers will never agree but over 1 million died of starvation or disease and another million emigrated to America and other countries, meaning that about 20-25% of the population was lost. Many Irish peasants lived in those stone cottages I mentioned and they're seriously cold, I've been in one of them before and I don't know how anyone could live in those.  
**America:** This happened during the War of 1812 where on the 24th August 1814, Washington and the White House were burned, supposedly that was the Brit's way of striking back against America for the burning and looting of York (now known as Toronto) in 1813.  
**India:** As she hasn't appeared in this story yet, England would have no idea who she was. I can't say exactly the date of this but it was when India started struggling for her independence, possibly during the Salt Satyagraha (Salt March) on March 12, 1930 . The idea came from a scene of the movie Ghandi where Ghandi and other Indians tried reclaiming the salt mines as theirs in a peaceful way by simply marching up to the guards and these, on orders of the British, would strike them down with the butt of their rifles. Forgive me for any inaccuracy here.  
**Canada:** This happened at the end of Seven Years' War where France had to give Canada to England through the signing of the Treaty of Paris on February 10, 1763.  
**Scotland:** I know that once England raided Scotland and killed 2,000 of his men and destroyed his crops, but for the love of everything that is holy, I can't find the information of when that happened. Forgive me for any inaccuracy though it is likely that something of the sort has happened before.  
**Tasmania**: This is about the Black War where a lot of the Tasmanian Aborigines were killed from 1828 to 1832. Forgive me for any inaccuracy.  
**Australia and New Zealand:** I hope you recognized those two, at first I was going to use their names but then I reasoned that England didn't know their names yet so it wouldn't make sense. There is a day called Anzac day today that commemorates the soldiers of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC) who fought in Gallipoli in Turkey during World War I. All the controversy aside of this event, I put this memory in because I think England would have felt some guilt in pulling those two colonies into the fight rather than willingly hurting them. I do think England cared a lot about his colonies, a bit harsh and stern to some of them but I don't agree that England was a heartless bastard and dragged these two into the war and didn't care what happened to them.

And now, I'll shut up. My brain hurts a bit, too much history so please, my fellow readers, if a mistake does pop up, (whether it be a spelling mistake or a huge inaccuracy) please don't be angry with me. Just tell me what's wrong and I'll correct it. But for now, the chapter is too long and my head is crying out for some rest. So see ya next time!


	32. Chapter 32

Here I am with the next chapter. I'm not really sure how swift I will be with the next chapter. Now that my father will be coming to join my family here in Switzerland and we'll be cramped in the same apartment, I'm afraid I will be having him breathing down my neck. My room technically is the living room (there is no other place for me to sleep) and my father literally lives in the living room almost 24/7. And if he knew of my various activities on the computer, such as this story... *shudders* I don't want to imagine the consequences. I'll have to start moving around on tip-toes again, so the chances of getting a new chapter up soon might be bleak. Also responding to PMs will get difficult and I'll have to be very careful. I'm just warning you guys, in case I really can't get the next chapter ready. That arrangement will only be a week though, then I'm going to France where I'll be able to have a private corner for myself again. Wish me luck on that!

Anyway, back to the story. Gah, I'm not sure whether I should like or hate this chapter. I guess I really like the last part of the chapter the most, simply because it's more interesting. (heh, what does that say about me?) Maybe a slight warning for the end, though I'm sure you lot are mature enough to stomach it. **There will be blood and violence in the last scene. Do not say that I didn't warn you!** Alright, with that out of the way, I'm not sure if this chapter is sappier than the last. I tried reducing it to the absolute minimum so it should be bearable, alright? Things will start getting more interesting soon enough, that I promise you. Right now, we have to deal with something very serious and important in this chapter, no matter how many times it's been done already. I have my own ideas about the issue, okay? Well... you'll see. Enjoy the chapter! ^^

* * *

Chapter 32

France sighed in frustration as sleep evaded him once again. No matter how exhausted he was or how much his body longed for sleep, the French nation just couldn't fall asleep. He was far too worried to be able to.

And that frustrated France a lot. Worry was eating away at his nerves but he couldn't do anything! Going after England in his enervated condition would not only do him any good, it could bring onto him some serious consequences. Yet, France did feel guilty.

Though England hadn't been under his care at the time, and technically France could always blame his disappearance on Spain, the French nation couldn't deny that he was somehow responsible for this. He was responsible for having tried to be manipulative, for being unable to stop England from becoming unhappier and unhappier as the days passed. He was responsible for having removed England's wings without his consent and thus straining the relationship between them even more.

If he hadn't done all that, if France had tried to be kinder… would England have run away? Would he have fled? The French nation felt even guiltier at the thought that perhaps all this chaos could have been avoided if France hadn't caused the first dominoes to fall. His conscience simply wouldn't let go of the idea that he was connected to this whole fiasco. Perhaps the other nations hadn't been far from the truth when they accusingly questioned him how England could have run away?

Oh, what was the point of all these thoughts? What had happened, happened. England had run away and was now still out there. The thought depressed France even more and he felt he wasn't going to find any sleep tonight. The nation exhaled deeply, trying to relax himself and his muscles in the faint hope of having sleep overtake him this way.

Suddenly the mobile phone on France's nightstand vibrated loudly as it received a message. France narrowed his eyes slightly at the sudden brightness of the device and blindly groped after the phone. He grabbed it and with slightly bleary eyes, he looked at who had sent him a text message at such an hour. He blinked a few times to clear his vision and he was astonished to see that the message came from Wales.

He swiftly opened the message to see what the Welsh nation had written. It said: _Thought I should tell this to everyone who is concerned in this, England has been found and brought back home safely. He's alright._

It took the message a few seconds to sink in. France brought the phone closer to his face to see if he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing. Was it true or was he still dreaming? The French nation pinched himself on his arm. No, he was still awake. So England was back!

France wondered who had found him… he could always ask that tomorrow. Right now he felt relief and happiness wash away the guilt from the pit of his stomach and he finally felt that he would yet be able to find sleep before the end of this night.

Before sleep could take him away, France swiftly responded: _Excellent, I'm happy to hear that Angleterre is safe and sound. I hope you don't mind if I pass by tomorrow afternoon to just see Angleterre._

After having sent the message, France smiled and let out a sigh of contentment. He allowed himself to sink deeper into his comfortable bed. Before a minute had passed, sleep had taken over France and he slept peacefully.

* * *

Ireland groaned when he woke up the next morning, a cramp in his neck. The Irish nation stretched his arms upwards, only stopping when a satisfying crack resounded from his joints. Sleeping in the armchair really hadn't been a good idea in the end, but Ireland found it impossible to sleep peacefully when someone was snoring next to him. And Wales snored. Very loudly even.

So after many failed attempts of falling asleep despite the noise, Ireland had finally dragged himself out of bed and went downstairs to seek refuge in the living room. As the couch was already occupied by America, Ireland had taken the armchair and had promptly fallen asleep again. He spent what little remained of the night sleeping soundly.

As he yawned widely and groggily stood up from the armchair, Ireland noticed that he and America weren't the only nations in the living room right now. A certain small Brit had come to join them as well.

England must have at some point woken up earlier than anyone else and had come down to the living room. He had climbed onto the couch and now was on America's chest, staring at the sleeping American's face intently. His eyes were slightly narrowed, as if he was trying to figure out an unsolvable mystery.

The elder brother found the situation admittedly quite strange and couldn't help but ask curiously, "What is it Sasana?"

Without looking up, England murmured lowly, "Why does America seem so familiar to me? His eyes keep reminding me of something... and this something becomes even stronger when he isn't carrying those glasses. Why does he seem so familiar like that?"

Ireland shifted awkwardly from foot to foot and tried to shrug his unease off. "Well, all nations will at some point become familiar to you. You've met many of them in the past, after all."

But England shook his head, frowning slightly, "No, I mean there's something else. Something I don't remember. Something no one has told me about. America is familiar to me but there is something else there as well..."

He trailed off, looking thoughtful. Then he turned his gaze towards Ireland and asked, "In some of my dreams, I either see a little boy or a young teenager with blue eyes. Do you know why maybe? Do you know who he is? Is he a nation?"

_Oh crap... _Ireland thought silently, suspecting that England had been dreaming of America when that nation had been a colony. The Brit had also mentioned a young teen... Ireland had to be careful now, he didn't know just how much England had recovered from his memories.

"Umm... well, do you think there is a reason to think that there is a link between Meiriceá and that boy and the teen from your dreams? America is not the only blue-eyed nation in world, there are certainly others." Ireland mumbled evasively as he scratched the back of his head apprehensively, choosing his words with great care. He didn't want to let anything slip that would put him in the awkward position to explain something Ireland definitely didn't want to explain.

England frowned in confusion and looked at America's face intently again. He quietly said, "It's just strange, when I see America without his glasses on, I have this strange feeling... he looks a lot like the boy from my dreams. And both of them have those really blue eyes..."

Suddenly the island nation's eyes widened and his body went rigid. He fell completely silent, not one sound escaping from him. Ireland glanced at England worriedly, wondering what had happened. Had England just realized something? Had he realized who America used to be, what the American had meant to England?

"Sasana?" Ireland spoke tentatively, finding it a bit unnerving that England was completely motionless and was just... staring at America like that. Neither a twitch nor a jerk came from him at all. Just completely still.

When England made no response, Ireland stood up and approached England warily, trying to get a look at his face. The Brit's face was blank, emotionless. But it was a completely different story with England's eyes.

There was something going on inside England's head, that much was clear from looking in his eyes. They were unfocused, cut from reality. However there was a mirage of shadows moving in his eyes... what were they? What was going on inside England's head?

Ireland frowned and shook England's shoulder slightly. "Sasana? Can you hear me? Answer me… please. What's going on?" The Irish nation was starting to feel nervous and worried. What could he do? Why wasn't England reacting to him, even shaking his shoulder didn't seem to have an effect on the Brit. What was happening?

* * *

"_Is everything okay?" A child-like voice asked quietly, a worried undertone audible in his voice. England felt a small hand touching his arm lightly. England was surprised by the unexpected contact and looked up from his arms to gaze at the little blue-eyed boy. There were fresh new tears trickling down his face and for a split-second, England wondered if the small boy was crying for him._

_England faintly heard France behind him mutter in a shocked tone, "Hey, I just got rejected? The French nation seemed appalled that he and his French cuisine had been rejected by the child. _

_But the Brit didn't even look back at France. He just kept staring at the boy, his mind blank with surprise. Why did the little boy seem to care about whether England was alright or not? Why did the boy react to England's sadness? After a few silent minutes, the child smiled warmly and moved closer to the Brit, trying to clamber on England._

_In his surprise, the island nation leaned slightly back and the small colony climbed onto England's chest, wrapping his arms around the Brit's neck. Stunned, England wrapped his arms around the small body and stood up, carrying the boy. He smiled gently at the adorable child, blinking back a few joyful tears that threatened to escape his eyes. He refused to cry in front of the boy._

"_Well, it seems like America has chosen who his big brother should be." England said happily, turning his head around to look at France, ready to gloat at the French nation. But France was already slinking off, angry that America had chosen England over France. _

"_England?"_

_The island nation's attention was drawn back to the little colony who was looking at him with wide blue eyes. England was amazed by the striking blue, the colour was comparable to the sky of the prairie. America was looking at him with wonder and he asked, "Are you really going to be my big brother?"_

_England blinked a few times before laughing softly, before hugging the little boy closer to him. "Of course America, I shall always be your big brother."_

_... _

_The Brit could only watch in astonishment as the little America continued swinging the bison around as if it was nothing more than a stuffed toy. England was truly shocked, he had never seen anyone of his kind show this kind of strength at such a young age. Imagine how strong America would be later on… the vision frightened England slightly but then he reasoned that with this colony by his side, the world would soon belong to him entirely._

_England frowned at the direction his thoughts were going and shook his head fiercely, silently berating himself for thinking like that. America was a young child, his little brother, not someone to be used just for the sake of world power. At least, that's what England tried to convince the power-hungry part of himself. _

_No, there was no way England would ever use America for his strength. I-it was still a good feeling not to be on the bad side of the colony, meaning he didn't have to fear that the child was inhumanely strong as he would never turn on the Brit. And though America was really strong, it certainly didn't make up for experience._

"_England, look at this!" America cried out excitedly, beginning to swing the bison around more quickly. Suddenly he spun the poor animal around one last time and then threw the bison high in the air._

_The island nation's eyes followed the bison, his mouth gaping open in shock as he saw the creature disappear into a passing cloud. After a few seconds the hooved animal was falling back to earth, directly towards America._

_The boy smiled widely, his eyes narrowing in concentration. He raised his arms up and nimbly caught the bison by the horns, the impact causing the small colony to sink slightly in the ground. _

_America carefully set the animal on the earth, patting it friendlily on the snout. The bison staggered slightly to the side and started wandering away from America in slalom, taking one shaky step at time. _

_The boy turned around and trotted back to England, smiling brightly, "How was I?" America questioned curiously, sounding very proud of himself._

_It took England a moment to realize that he was still gaping at America. He closed his mouth with a pop and laughed uneasily, "I certainly wouldn't want to be your enemy."_

_The colony frowned slightly, not understanding the compliment. He cocked his head to one side curiously, "Why would you ever want to be my enemy? You're my big brother, I would never treat you like the enemy."_

"_True, true, that's a very silly thing of me to say." England chuckled, feeling relieved. He scolded himself internally for blurting that out. What kind of thing was that to say to a child? Clearly America was proud of his abilities and had wanted to show off a little bit to England, wanting to get some praise for his strength. But England had to be the awkward turtle and blurt something out that had little to no semblance to a compliment. _

"_England?" America stared at England, his azure eyes alight with joy and adoration. "I'm glad I have you as my big brother." Then America threw his arms around England's legs and hugged him. The older nation chuckled again and bent down to return the hug warmly._

_..._

"_Why do you have to go again?" America whined sadly, gripping England's hand and trying to keep England from leaving. It was too soon, the Brit had been here just a few weeks and he had to leave again. It wasn't fair! "You haven't been here in so long and now you have to go already!" _

_Soft green eyes looked at the young colony and England smiled sadly, "I know America, it isn't easier for me to have to leave you behind. But my king needs me right now and I promise I will come back to visit you soon." _

"_Sometimes I think your king means more to you than I do." America muttered under his breath resentfully, crossing his arms and pouting at England. _

_The Brit blinked a few times before shaking his head vehemently, "No America, you mean so much more to me. Even more than my king! But…," England sighed, "my king represents my people and my people represent my country, my land. And my duties lie to my country. I need to be there for my people and for my king. They make up me, they're the reason I exist. I can't abandon them."_

_America uncrossed his arms and looked at England in surprise, "Are the humans so important to us?"_

"_America, we're modelled after humans. We're not humans, you know that, right?" England explained, hoping to make America understand why he had to leave the colony alone so much. England sometimes resented the fact that he had to leave America behind so often but the things he had to do for his country, the wars he fought for his kings, it was definitely not a concept he wanted to introduce the child to. He was far too young for that._

"_Of course we're not humans!" America laughed, "They're weaker than us, they don't live as long as us and the animals are even scared of them. But… if we're not humans, what ARE we actually?"_

"_Avatars." England answered, sinking down to one knee and placed his hands on the colony's shoulders. "Avatars that have taken on the image of humans and are bound to them. I'm bound to my own people. They are me and I am them. If they cry for help, I will come and stand by them and help."_

"_What if you need help?" America asked inquisitively, looking at England intently._

"_The life of an avatar was never an easy life." England replied evasively, not wanting to give America an answer that even the Brit was not sure of. He would have to answer this question another day, perhaps a time where America would be more mature to understand. He quickly proceeded, "But anyway, I hope you understand why I have to go. And I promise you America, I will do all my best to come and visit you as swiftly as possible." _

"_Promise?" America stared at England, his blue eyes wide with hope._

_England laughed lightly as he stood up and petted America's head reassuringly. "I promise."_

_..._

"_No, no, no America, it's do, re, mi, mi, la, __**la, **__ti, do. Not do, re, mi, mi, la, ti, do. Alright, from the start now again." England corrected sharply, turning the music page over to the beginning of once again._

"_Come on England, it's too difficult. I'll never get the hang of it! I can't play the violin!" America whinged, holding his violin awkwardly as he tried to find the correct strings. The colony held the bow uncertainly, adjusting its position against the strings._

_England watched the child struggle with his violin for a minute before he chuckled quietly and shook his head. He moved over to the colony and helped America readjust his violin. "You're holding the violin too tightly, relax your grip on your instrument. I know it's not easy to learn how to play the violin but the earlier you start, the easier it gets. Trust me, I started a lot later than you and despite the difficulties, look how well I've learned to play it now." The Brit leaned back and picked up his own violin, holding it expertly in his hands. "Just copy the way I hold it."_

_America looked at England closely and observed how the elder nation held the violin, fine-tuning his hold on his own instrument. He then looked up at England and asked, "Why do I have to learn how to play an instrument anyway? It's not like it will help me in anything."_

"_It does help, it enriches your imagination and your drive to reach your goals. You will not regret learning to play an instrument later on, believe me." England smiled fondly at the young colony who huffed loudly and gazed at his instrument in annoyance._

"_Right now, I know that I really don't like the violin." America muttered lowly, shifting the violin slightly on his shoulder._

"_Alright, from the beginning again." England said brightly as he nodded his head over at the music page, pretending that he didn't hear America groan under his breath. _

_..._

"_Hey, hey, look England, I'm taller than you now!" A teenager America was grinning widely at England, effectively standing taller than the Brit. Just slightly taller, but it was enough to inflate America's pride in becoming bigger than England. _

_England shifted awkwardly, an uneasy look in his eyes as he had to, for the first time, look up to meet America's eyes. It was unnerving for him to see how quickly America had grown, time had passed much too quickly. This couldn't be the small colony England had picked up from the prairie! Could it? _

_But he then smiled at America and chuckled, "Indeed you have my lad, indeed you have." _

"_I'm probably stronger than you now." America declared confidently, his grin becoming even cockier. _

_England looked momentarily perturbed but quickly masked it and smirked, "Ah, ah, America, I wouldn't challenge an empire. You may be taller but height does not make up for the centuries of experience in fighting wars and surviving catastrophes."_

_The American looked at England in momentary confusion before he laughed obnoxiously loudly and pulled England into a bear hug. "Don't be like that England, as if I'm planning on actually ever fighting you." _

_All England could do was smile out of relief, America's words reassuring the uneasy empire. America had grown so quickly, almost too quickly. England had still not forgotten the inhumane strength the colony possessed, even though he used those powers extremely rarely. There was a nagging feeling inside England's head but the Brit shrugged the feeling off, not wanting to face them._

_..._

"_I want my independence England."_

_England looked up from his papers surprised, convinced that he must have misheard. What had America just asked for? America stood in front of England's desk, a sombre expression on his face. The island nation questioned, "Excuse me? I don't think I heard correctly." _

"_I said that I want to become an independent nation." America repeated, having grown a bit more and starting to look more like a young man. _

_England stared at the American silently, not believing his ears. Had he heard right? "B-but America, why? Haven't I given you so much? Why this sudden desire t-to... leave?" _

_America shifted awkwardly, scratching his head. He replied, "England, you've really been the greatest brother I could have ever asked for but... I'm growing up. I want to be able to make my own decisions, to test these waters on my own now." _

"_America, being a nation means having to take on many difficult responsibilities..." _

"_I'm ready to take them England." _

_The Brit frowned darkly and shook his head, "America, you have no idea what you're talking about. And you are much too young to consider becoming an independent nation yet. You still need my help." _

"_No I don't!" America countered, bristling, "Look, I know you care about me and want to protect me but I'm almost an adult-" _

"_Your appearance has nothing to do with your age! You're barely a few centuries old, by our standards that's hardly an adult!" England burst out, exasperated that America was being so stubborn. _

"_But I know I can do this! I want to be free England, free! I feel caged here, letting you take care of all the matters! I want to be independent!" America shouted, throwing his arms up in frustration. His eyes were blazing with determination. _

"_I can't give you independence. You're not ready yet. End of discussion." England said with a sniff and went back to his notes. His thoughts were in a turmoil, he had to make sense of them first. He hoped America was just passing a phase, that all this talk of "freedom" would die soon. Didn't human teenagers pass a phase where they felt the need to assert themselves? Maybe America was just in that phase, it was nothing serious. His colony wasn't honest about leaving England. _

_America sighed and turned around to walk away, muttering quietly under his breath, "Then I'll have to convince you in another way..."_

_..._

"_Are you out of your mind America! Stop with this nonsense already!" England yelled angrily, pacing in his office back and forth. America stood in the middle of the room, staring down at his feet. He refused to look up at England. His shoulders were trembling slightly. _

"_You killed them..." Was all that he mumbled, keeping his eyes locked on the ground. _

_The empire spun around and glared at America, "They attacked my soldiers first and I had no control over their reactions to the mob! They did what they judged to be the right course of action."_

"_It doesn't matter, your people killed some of mine." _

"_YOURS?" England spat venomously, sounding incredulous and angry at the same time, "How many times do I have to tell you, they're not YOUR people! So stop talking about them as if they were." _

"_They are my people!" America insisted, looking up to stare at England hatefully, his azure eyes blazing with anger. "I hate you, how could you allow this to happen!" _

_England stopped dead in his tracks as America's words hit home and whirled around to respond to America's accusation. He had no right to hate England for this, he was not to blame for what had happened in Boston. How were his soldiers supposed to react to the mob? _

_But the American had already fled, running to his room, barely holding back his tears of rage and frustration. His people wanted freedom. And they were starting to rebel._

_..._

"_America..." England sighed tiredly, feeling weariness weigh heavily on his bones. "Stop this. Come home with me. This is not a game..." _

_America looked at England, his blue eyes cold and unfeeling. England felt himself recoil internally at them. How could those eyes appear so cold when he had seen them filled with warmth so many times? _

"_No." America replied icily. "I want my freedom. You won't give it to me? Fine, then I'll fight for it. I will get my freedom!" _

"_You have no idea who you're going up against." England scoffed, glaring mockingly at America. "You can't do this alone. You're just a colony, I'm an empire with centuries of experience." _

"_I'm not alone. France and Spain will help me." America sneered back. _

_England's eyes widened at the response. America... was getting help? From the other empires? America was betraying England? So his little America was really going to fight against him? _

_America looked momentarily perturbed by England's reaction, his emotions behind his eyes faltering. But England shook his head and glowered at America. "So I'll see you on the battlefield I suppose."_

_..._

_England stood with his army facing the opposing force. His "enemies". The rain was falling heavily on both armies but none were deterred by it. This battle could no longer be avoided, the redcoats had to make their last stand._

_Maybe they could still win this. England didn't know how but there was maybe… maybe a chance somewhere... an opportunity. _

_The Brit's heart clenched painfully as he saw America on the other side of the plain, leading his men into this battle confidently like a true nation. England scowled at this thought and shook his head fiercely. America was too young. He wasn't ready to become a nation. England had to stop him, win this fight or else... he would lose America. For good. _

_... He wasn't going to allow that to happen. England grit his teeth together and wondered why did it come down to this. How could two brothers fight each other like that? But England didn't want to lose him... _

_Shaking his head again, he looked behind him and looked at his army, his men ready to fight to the death despite their bleak situation. England nodded, a signal to his men to prepare themselves. He turned to glare at the opposing army and shouted the order for his men to attack._

_America and his men immediately responded, surging forward as America gave them the command to attack too. Both armies met at the centre of the battlefield and soon the sound of muskets firing and the clash of bayonets were heard. _

_Men were shouting, yelling, falling and fought with every inch of their being. Both sides fought fiercely, neither wanting to let the other side win. The rain fell heavier and the ground grew muddy, making it more difficult for the soldiers to fight without stumbling and falling in the mud._

_England struggled against the mud, slashing with his bayonet at any American soldier who was within his reach. In all the fighting, England had lost sight of America but the empire had a suspicion he was going to find his rebellious colony soon._

_Around him, England became increasingly aware of the decreasing numbers of the redcoats, his men. Many of them had fallen and had not risen again and the remaining were struggling with the mud. The American soldiers, although also encountering problems with the mud, were far greater in number than the redcoats._

_Soon the few redcoats that remained were retreating, overwhelmed by the opposing numbers. England was too busy fighting against the American soldiers but he quickly became aware that he was the last redcoat on the battlefield. _

_As if a silent order had been passed, the American soldiers started backing off from the empire and forming lines facing England, their muskets held tightly in their hands. America stepped in front of his army and faced England, his eyes determined and serious._

_England stared at them, noticing that he was losing this battle... NO! He wasn't going to lose this!_

"_Hey England..." America started to speak, raising to point his musket at England. "I want freedom after all. I'm not a child anymore, nor your little brother. Now, I am seceding from you!"_

_America's blue eyes were blazing fiercely, his mind entirely focussed on winning this war. England let America's painful words soak into his skin and the empire was momentarily stunned by how serious this America was in front of him, a clashing contrast to the memory of the little innocent America that England clung to desperately. This America was intent on raising the musket against England, intent to shoot the nation who had raised him. _

_Fury filled England's heart and he held his musket tightly till his knuckles turned white. __**How dare he? Show this brat his true place! Stop him from winning this fight! Or you'll lose him!**_

_..._

_England glanced at America angrily and broke out into running. He snarled, "I won't allow-!"_

_..._

_*clash*_

_England's bayonet crashed against America's musket, the colony had been caught off guard by England's aggressive response._

_..._

_The force of England's attack caused America's musket to fly out of his hand. America was disarmed, he has nothing else to protect him from England._

_..._

_The empire was pointing his musket at America's face, finger on the trigger. England was panting as he glared at America venomously. __**Game over. **__America had lost the fight._

_..._

"_Your incompetence is outstanding, you twat." England spat out. America is split between gazing at England and gazing at the weapon._

_..._

_Both nations faintly hear a general in the background stutter, "F-fire!" The sounds of muskets being pointed at England are heard. However England ignored them and concentrated on the stunned colony in front of him._

_..._

_England attempted to compose himself, his index finger touching the trigger of his musket several times._

_..._

_But he can't pull the trigger. He can't shoot._

_..._

_Not with America staring at the musket, wide-eyed and shocked. Vulnerable. England is seeing the little America again, inside the eyes of this grown up nation. England was seeing the very same America the Brit had found in the prairies all those years ago. How could he shoot America, the little colony England had raised?_

_..._

_The empire lowered his musket. He couldn't shoot America. He couldn't destroy his spirit._

_..._

_America glanced up at England, completely stunned by the Brit's actions. He had certainly not expected the fierce empire to pass up this chance of getting the American back under his control._

...

"_There's no way I can fire... fool..." England mumbled resentfully, glaring at America. Then the cold realization hit him viciously. He was acknowledging that America had won by not shooting him. England was hopelessly outnumbered and he hadn't used his last chance to keep his colony._

_America was free._

_And England felt his heart being destroyed when this raw truth sunk in._

_..._

_The musket was dropped to the ground and England fell to his knees into the mud. Tears immediately came to his eyes and started streaming down his face. _

...

"_Damn it! Why! Shit..."England cursed, trying his best to hold back his tears. He couldn't let America see them, see how weak England had become._

...

"_England..." _

...

"_You used to be so big..." America murmured softly, looking at the crying empire with sad eyes._

_..._

"_Alors Angleterre," France smiled infuriatingly at England, pushing some papers in front of the Brit. "Will you sign these papers? Make Amérique's independence from you official?" France's smiles widened with gloating and England felt the distinct need to smash the French nation's face in and rip his beard out._

_Albion._

_England._

_United Kingdom._

_British Empire. _

"Sasana!"

_Sasana? That was also his name..._

"Sasana, snap out of it! Damn it, Sasana!"

_Huh? What... who was talking to him? He felt something shake his shoulders roughly. Pulling him back to reality..._

England's green eyes shut and reopened, the mysterious clouds disappearing from his eyes.

"Buíochas le Dia!" Ireland breathed out, clearly relieved. He had really started to worry about England... The Brit blinked a few times, trying to remember what had happened. He had been looking at America, wondering why the nation was reminding him of the little boy from his dreams.

His eyes widened with realization as he linked America to the influx of memories he had just received. England jumped off from America and landed with a wobble on his feet. He stared at America disbelievingly, not able to trust his own memories.

"Sasana?" Ireland looked at England curiously, wondering why the Brit was staring at America so oddly. England's expression betrayed a mixture of shock and disbelief.

"A-america... he's my little bother?" England said hoarsely, still staring dumbfounded at America.

"Adopted little brother." Ireland corrected uneasily. The Irish nation started wondering silently what England had just discovered. Judging by the length of time the Brit was out of it, who knew…

"Why... didn't he say anything? All that stuff... I can't believe all that stuff..." England was shaking his head, frowning as a few of his recently gained memories flashed in front of his eyes. His head was starting to hurt.

"What, did you remember a memory? Which memory?" Ireland asked hurriedly, if England had been remembering a memory when he had out of it, then it meant it must have been a fairly long memory.

"Everything about America... I feel like I remembered just about everything about him..." England held his head in both arms, the sudden weight of all the memories being too much for his mind. He was starting to feel very dizzy.

"Until when did your memories go?" The Irish nation asked carefully, already aware of England's answer.

"The last clear memory... I-I was on a battlefield facing America..." England mumbled quietly, shutting his eyes to clear the dizziness. There was a numbing ache in his heart, an ache that he understood while at the same time not understanding it.

Ireland nodded, that was the answer he had expected. England hadn't remembered everything... he had regained all the memories up to the revolution but past that... nothing else. The memory of the revolution was blocking out everything else. England had up until now never let go of his grudge and hurt over the revolution. He was still bitter about it. As a response, England's sub consciousness refused to go further, meaning that England wasn't healing properly.

Unless... America and England finally talked it all out. Maybe then England might finally get over the whole revolution thing and move on. Hadn't Scotland had a similar idea when he had first passed England to America a few months ago?

Ireland looked at England who was still holding his head in his hands as if he was suffering a massive headache.

"Does your head still hurt Sasana?" Ireland asked quietly, crouching down to look at England seriously. The little nation nodded his head slowly.

The Irish nation sighed and said, "Ceart go leor, go to your room and have a lie down. Obviously the influx of memories was too much for you."

England started protesting, "But I want to-"

"I know you want to ask Meiriceá questions. But he's still asleep and will be for a while. And you might want to have a clear head when you do confront him."

The Brit looked thoughtful for a moment before asking, "Why didn't he mention anything of all... this to me?"

Ireland smiled grimly and shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno but you can ask him once he wakes up. I'll make sure he will answer your questions."

England was silent before he nodded again and walked out of the room. Ireland stared after him and then looked down at the still dozing American. He shook his head and muttered to himself, "This drama story must end today."

* * *

The first sight that greeted America when he finally woke up a few hours later was Ireland and Scotland standing over him. America blinked a few times to get the sleep out of his system and then began wondering what England's elder brothers wanted from him. He hadn't done anything wrong, had he?

"Hey sleepyhead, finally woke up after all those hours?" Scotland grinned, cocking his head to one side. Ireland however had his arms crossed and was looking at America calculatively, making the American uneasy. Why was Ireland looking at him so strangely?

"Hey... what did I miss?" America asked brightly, hoping that Ireland would stop looking at him like that. It was really becoming unnerving and it never was a good sign when you were being stared down by a Celtic nation.

Scotland turned to look at Ireland who merely nodded. Then Ireland turned his attention back to America and said, "D'you know what happened while you were asleep?"

Of course America didn't know the answer so all he could do was shake his head dumbly.

"Well... it seems like England recovered quite a bit of his memories of when you were his colony. But his memories stop exactly at the revolution." Scotland explained.

"What?" The American exclaimed incredulously, not believing his ears. England had remembered everything up to the revolution? He blinked a few times before questioning hoarsely, "...How?"

The Scot chuckled, in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. "Ever thought your face without your glasses could actually act as a memory trigger for England?"

Ireland nodded, "Sasana was looking at you, wondering why your face reminded him of a little blue-eyed boy he kept seeing in his dreams. Then he suddenly got that influx of memories..."

"And he only remembers up to the revolution." America said weakly, groaning in response when both brothers nodded. So England had truly not identified who America truly was until now? And now... well it seemed like England had discovered the whole brotherly relationship and the fight between them. Without America even mentioning anything to him...

"How is he now?" America asked warily, wondering how angry England was against him for not revealing that part of the past to him. Would England forgive him for having withheld such an important part of his life? But when could America have told him all that?

"Actually he wants to talk. He wants to ask questions." Ireland replied.

"Huh?" America was surprised. "But isn't he angry at me? Hurt? Why would he want to talk to me?"

Scotland stared at America with a raised thick eye-brow. "America, you seem to forget that this isn't the England we normally know. He wants to understand his past better. He doesn't want to be left in the dark again."

"And you are going to go there now and finally talk this revolution over and finally get over it, got that?" Ireland said sternly, his green eyes flashing with determination. Scotland, for once, became serious too and nodded affirmatively.

"But I got over it." America protested, swinging his legs to the side of the couch and standing up to face the Celtic nations. It felt better that way, they were more or less equal size. America hated the feeling when someone was standing over him, he felt intimidated by that. And this was a situation where America was feeling already a bit intimidated by the two brothers.

"But we all know that Sasana never did. And it's clear that Sasana is subconsciously still not letting go. You really should go and talk it out with him Meiriceá." Ireland looked at America seriously.

"Yeah okay, but what change would that bring anyway?" America demanded, looking stubbornly at his feet.

"It might... finally free Sasana. It might make him stop obsessing over this time period so much. I mean, it's been almost 300 years since it's happened. He has to let go but he needs your help."

"But still... I mean you're his brother and you left him too! How come he's so heart-broken over my independence and not other's like yours?" America demanded.

A tense silence followed. Ireland and Scotland looked between each other silently and then Ireland looked away, narrowing his green eyes angrily. He suddenly sneered, "Well, he took me into his empire by military force, I've fought with him more than I care to remember and he still has Northern Ireland. I doubt he really missed me when I finally left his house."

Fuming, the Irish nation strode out of the room, not sparing America or Scotland a glance. America looked wordlessly at Scotland who shrugged and mumbled, "Not a very smooth move America, Ireland is still a bit sore about the whole "Northern Ireland preferring to stay with the UK" issue. Ireland hasn't been that long independent, mind you."

"Yeah, but how did England react when Ireland left?" America questioned, admittedly a bit curious about what happened when Ireland became independent in 1922. How did England react?

"Not too well, he didn't want Ireland to leave of course. But I think it was worse when you left. At that time England had been on the rise of his empire, and he continued climbing after that. But when Ireland left, his empire was already on the decline. He accepted Ireland's departure more easily, though he would have never admitted that."

"So I suppose I should go and talk with England, huh?" America sighed and scratched his head.

"Do you want England to finally let the revolution go?"

America nodded and sighed again, "Alright, I'll go talk with him."

Scotland grinned and ruffled America's hair good-naturedly. "Great!" The Scot replied cheerfully. "I'll go and calm down Ireland. If I can find him, that is. Oh yeah, England is in his room right now."

* * *

After being told by Scotland where England was, America went upstairs to the Brit's room. He knocked on the door, feeling slightly apprehensive, and walked in, looking where England was.

The little nation was lying on his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Upon hearing the American enter the room England stopped staring at the ceiling and sat up. When he saw that it was America, the island nation's eyes narrowed slightly and became a bit more guarded.

_-Oh crap...-_ America thought worriedly. Was England showing the first signs of hiding himself behind his mask of indifference again? Well, this time it kinda was America's fault for not mentioning anything at all... gah, he really had to finally stop dancing around the subject and meet it face on.

He was a hero anyway. No, he was the hero! This was perhaps his final chance of resolving this whole revolution conflict and mend the rift between him and England that had lasted for far too long. America took a deep breath and sat beside the Brit on the bed. He began awkwardly, "Okay, I know you're probably pissed with me-"

"Pissed?" England frowned in confusion at the word and America fought the urge to facepalm at his own ignorance. Of course England couldn't know what "pissed" meant now, he hardly swore anymore. Probably didn't even remember the swearwords.

"Okay, angry." America corrected himself. But before he could continue England cut him off.

"Yes, I am angry. But I'm also confused. Frustrated. I... I don't know what to think anymore." England said quietly, turning to look away from America.

"But I mean... why are you angry? What's there... to be so upset about?" America asked warily, trying his best to tread carefully on the subject. So far England hadn't burst into tears or into a fit of anger.

"Why didn't you tell me anything about it? ...About us having this brotherly relationship, that we used to be so close once? Why didn't you even mention it?" England demanded, turning to gaze accusingly at America.

America quickly defended himself, "When? When could I have told you all that England?"

"...Yesterday?"

"It's too complicated to explain in one go... it would have taken too long. Do you really think I could have really told you everything yesterday?" America pointed out logically, frowning at England slightly.

England was silent, casting his gaze somewhere else. He then questioned, "Couldn't you have said something when I stayed over at your house? I was there long enough for you to mention something of that past."

The American sighed exasperatedly, "England, how would you have understood me back then? You didn't even know what rain was exactly, do you remember that? You jumped out of the window to get a closer to the rain."

"Well, I know now why I felt so drawn to rain, don't I?" England hissed bitterly. "The rain was reminding me of something, I couldn't put my finger on it back then, but now I know. It was connected to the revolution, wasn't it? Why didn't you take the chance to even mention that past event then?"

America answered testily, "Would you have understood me England? Tell me, do you think you would have been able to grasp the concept of the revolution at that stage. You couldn't form coherent sentences, you were repeating the words I said. How does that show me that you would have understood me?"

England fell silent again, looking thoughtful. He then muttered, "Was that why you passed me on to Japan? I remembered a part of a painful memory and you knew what memory it was about, so you just gave me away to Japan? Was that the reason?"

"Huh?" America was confused before he started to protest, "No, I didn't pass you on because of the memory. Sure, I knew what memory it was about but I gave you away because I thought you hated me back then! Remember when I tried to pick you up? You flinched away from me. I thought that if you hated me there was no point in you staying with me because you wouldn't heal anymore..."

"I flinched because everything in me was hurting at the time." England burst out, glaring at America. "My heart was hurting and I didn't know why or how. And every time you came close to me, my heart started to hurt more. So I simply flinched... I didn't want to feel pain anymore and the further you were, the less it hurt. But I was still confused, I didn't know where all the pain was coming from."

Both English-speaking nations were silent again, not knowing what to say. America was unable to come up with a counter-argument. He had a sinking feeling that he had completely misread England's actions and had assumed too quickly that it was due to the Brit's hatred towards the American. Was that why the other nations had been against America's decision in giving England to Japan?

The island nation spoke up again, asking softly, "Is it so difficult for you to face this memory? Why are you afraid of the memory?"

"I'm not afraid of the memory!" America protested quickly, then he willed himself to calm down and he rubbed his neck uncomfortably. He admitted, "But… yeah, the memory is a bit difficult for me… I'm uncomfortable with it."

"Why?" England looked at America, confusion in his eyes.

The North American nation sighed, running a hand through his hair. After careful consideration of what words he should use, he finally proceeded, "England, I will be honest with you. I wanted liberty, I wanted my freedom. So all the fight I did to gain it… I don't regret it. But what I do regret is that I had to hurt you in the process. That's the only thing I truly regret about the revolution. The memory is uncomfortable for me because heroes don't hurt the people they care about. But I still hurt you and… I'm sorry about that." After a moment of silence, America asked curiously, "So you really didn't remember the revolution back then at my birthday party?"

The island nation frowned as he thought back and shook his head. "I only got the feelings back then... but now I know the whole memory." England pondered for a moment and then he looked at America and asked, "So were you lying yesterday when you said that you never hated me?"

"Hey, I wasn't lying! Heroes never lie!" America protested loudly, grabbing England's shoulders and forcing him to look into his eyes.

"Then why did you say you hated me in my memories?" England demanded, a few tears forming in the corners of his eyes. America jolted at the reminder, remembering those fights he had with England when he wanted his independence. They had yelled at each other so much, none would have ever believed that they were close.

America wiped an errant tear away from England's cheek and stared apologetically at the island nation. "England, we had many fights then because I was just... really frustrated with you. I said all those things in anger, I didn't mean everything I said." America went on to wipe the remaining tears off England's cheek. He added, "You have to understand England, I really wanted my freedom. I wanted to be a free nation. I didn't want to be caged anymore."

"_If you could choose, would you rather stay free or be put in a cage?"_

Japan's words echoed in England's head. The Brit remembered that day... he didn't want the blue bird to be set free and had tried to deny it its freedom. And a long time ago the previous England had tried to deny America his freedom. Both situations were so similar...

"_Then don't you think the bird would also wish to be free?" _

America had fought against England because he had wanted to become an independent nation. The England from back then hadn't wanted to let go of America because he had cared about his colony and didn't want the American to get hurt? Why hadn't the previous England seen that America wanted to be free? Had wanted to be a nation like England?

"England?" America asked curiously, trying to gain England's attention. He had no idea why, but somehow whatever America had said, had caused England to fall completely silent and pensive. Had he struck a chord inside England?

When England looked at America, the younger nation continued, "I know you were really sad and angry that I wanted to leave but I had grown up, I wanted to make my own decisions for my people. So I had no choice but to fight you to earn my freedom. And well, that fight on the battlefield… turned out to be a load more different than I expected it to be. I seriously thought you were going to shoot me there and then. But you somehow... didn't pull the trigger. Maybe because of the memories of the past, you were too weak to shoot me-"

"Not weak!" England suddenly burst out, shaking his head vigorously. He repeated insistently, "I'm not weak, I don't like the word... I don't want to be weak. I'm not weak!"

America was a bit taken aback by the reaction but then he reminded himself that England had once been a very powerful empire. The word "weak" then might sound very unpleasant for England… the little island nation did look quite unhappy to America.

"But if it wasn't out of weakness that you didn't shoot me... then what was it that stopped you?" America demanded, not seeing any other obvious reason why England wouldn't have been able to shoot the American. What other reason was there? England could have easily shot him. He probably would have done it to any other nation if given the chance at the time. Empires knew no mercy back then.

England was silent for a while, staring at America as he tried to think back why the old England hadn't shot America. Suddenly the answer presented itself to England. It was such a simple and clear answer that England wasn't sure if he should say it. He decided it was better to say it than never.

He stood up on the bed and approached America, grabbing his face and staring at the American intently. He then huffed and finally answered "You want to know what really stopped me from shooting you that day? Memories did play a part yes, but there is also another reason. Well, here is my other reason...it was your eyes that stopped me."

"My... eyes? …Why?" Now America was definitely confused, surprised and... a little bit creeped out by the answer. Why his eyes?

"The past England couldn't shoot you because of what he saw in your eyes." England began to explain, looking at America seriously, "During the fight, England was convinced that the small America he had raised was dead, had long been dead. He was sure that the America who went to war against him wasn't the same America and he thought that if he defeated you, he might be able to bring the young America back. It wasn't until he had his musket aimed at your face did he really see your eyes. He saw within them the same America that he had raised. He saw that you were still there and he realized that if he pulled the trigger, then he was killing your spirit. He was killing the America he cherished as his younger brother. England… I… couldn't do that. If you had reacted differently, if you had tried to be brave or if you had tried to provoke him into shooting you, he might have pulled the trigger in the belief that he was killing off the "new" America. But you reacted like the small colony the past England had raised and he saw that in your eyes."

England paused hesitantly, feeling as though the older England would have never uttered any of these words. But he looked at America evenly, trying to see how the other nation was reacting to what he had said.

America blinked, surprised by England's words. Was that the truth? Was that the reason why England had faltered and was then unable to shoot America on the battlefield that day? America had never thought of it like that and it… actually meant a lot to the American. It showed how much England had cared about America, even to the point of having to pass up the chance of winning the war and letting the American go. If it had been another nation, would England have done the same thing? Somehow America doubted that.

England shifted uneasily after a few minutes, wondering what America was thinking about.

"Well...I-I'm glad you didn't shoot that day." America forced out awkwardly, smiling widely at the Brit as his eyes teared up slightly. He hastily wiped the tears away and pulled England into a hug and buried his face into the island nation's hair.

England was astonished that America seemed so touched that a few tears appeared in eyes. Though he was a bit worried, England came to the conclusion that America was not crying because he was sad. The American was crying because he was happy? This mixture of emotions was strange for England, he didn't know you could cry from happiness. But he still smiled and tried wrapping his arms around America as best as he could. (That wasn't very much since England was still small and so, had short arms)

America pulled back and wiped one or two errant tears away from the corner of his eyes. He silently reproached himself for having started to cry like that, heroes don't cry in front of the others. Still, he was filled with a sense of relief and joy… he asked cautiously, "So, we put this revolution behind us?" America reached a hand towards England, wondering if this chapter of his life would finally be closed without any grudges left behind. It was long overdue, after all.

England stared at America and then at the American's hand thoughtfully, seeming to consider it. After a moment, he smiled and took America's offered hand, answering, "I want to try and leave it behind. No, I will leave it behind. I no longer want to be dragged down by it."

The island nation was eager to leave the memory behind. He knew now why it had happened and now he wanted to leave it in the past, he was certain that his relationship with America had gotten better after that revolution or else America wouldn't call them allies, friends.

He just wished he could remember those times again.

America sighed with relief, perhaps he wouldn't have to deal with England's drunken ravings anymore. And perhaps now England would finally come to all America's birthday parties willingly. He did have a lot of catching up to do with America's presents anyway.

"But I am curious as to what happened after the revolution. How did we become friends again?" England asked inquisitively, staring at America.

"Hmm? That's gonna take some time to answer... we didn't become friends again overnight, that's for sure. The revolution did happen over 300 years ago." America laughed while scratching his head sheepishly.

"300 years?" England exclaimed, sound incredulous. He then questioned, "How old am I?"

"Err… dunno really." America shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "You don't really have a day where you celebrate your birthday... you're maybe over 2000 years old. I'm can't say for sure."

"...And I didn't let the revolution go for 300 years?" England was looking quite perplexed, confused by the previous England's reactions. Why had his old self refused to let go of his grudge?

"Apparently, yeah. You didn't let your grudges go so easily." America pondered for a while before asking a question that's been left unanswered in the back of his mind for some time. "Do you maybe remember how you got that big scar over your chest? Was it in your memories? I know that you must have gotten it during the revolution but I don't know anything more than that."

The thought that maybe one of America's own soldiers had attacked England in his weak state was killing the American. He had to know what had really caused the wound. Was it one of his soldiers or was the wound the result of him leaving England?

England became pensive, furrowing his thick eyebrows in concentration. He slowly shook his head, replying, "I don't remember how I got it... I remember the feeling of getting it, but I can't say how I got it."

"Maybe try digging a little bit?" America proposed, surprised to hear that England remembered the feeling but not the actual memory. Had England perhaps suppressed this memory a long time ago?

As England closed his eyes to try and locate the missing memory, America heard a non-existent knock at the door. He looked up as someone opened the door quietly. He grinned widely and jumped from the bed.

"Hey Canada!" He exclaimed joyfully. The Canadian jumped a little at the loud greeting but smiled back when he saw America bounding over to Canada.

"Hey... I heard from Wales that you continued nation-hopping through the night and came back here with England. Only you would do something as crazy as that." Canada shook his head, as if chiding America. But his tone betrayed Canada's relief that England was safe again.

"I'm a hero, and heroes always do what seems impossible or crazy to the rest!" America gave Canada a thumbs up with a flash of his grin. Then he gripped Canada's shoulders and asked excitedly, "Guess what?"

"Uh..." Canada blinked a few times, "no idea..."

"I finally talked the revolution over with England!" America beamed happily. Canada broke out into a small chuckle.

"Was about time, eh? So everything is now good between you two?"

"Yep! Now things will finally smooth out between me and England." America was happy to say the very least. His heart seemed to be soaring, knowing that the other was free from that haunting memory.

"I only have one question."

"Yeah?"

Canada looked past America at England who had not moved from his place from the bed. "Is England alright?"

England had his eyes slightly opened but they were distant. He didn't seem to be aware of Canada and America anymore. Frankly he looked like he had gone somewhere else. Shadows were moving in England's eyes.

America and Canada both approached the bed to look at England closely. Neither knew what was going on but they were worried.

"Hey England? Iggy?" America nudged England carefully, becoming worried at the island nation's silence. What had happened now?

"England, can you hear us?" Canada asked anxiously but England reacted to neither of the two North American nations. He continued staring blankly in front of him. It was as if he had reverted to how he had been at the beginning of this whole mess.

America leaned closer and waved his hand in front of England's face. Canada slapped America's hand away and scolded, "America, you don't do that!"

"Then what? I have no clue what's up with England, he was okay a moment ago." America demanded loudly, confusion in his eyes. He turned to England and called out insistently, "Hey England, come on, back to Earth! I don't know where you are but if you hear me then come back!"

But England remained unresponsive. Frustrated and worried, America went to grip England hand tightly in his own. He squeezed it while pleading, "England, if you can feel this then please squeeze back. Just please..."

* * *

_Suddenly America felt the ground drop from under him. The surroundings of England's room were quickly whisked away into the darkness and Canada was no longer beside him. America looked around in panic, what had happened?_

_He realized that he was no longer holding England's hand. He was completely and utterly alone in the dark. America was really starting to get freaked out, he didn't like that kind of empty darkness, after all. Why was he here? How had he come here?_

_Then the American got the feeling that he was being watched closely by something. He quickly whirled around to look at the "stalker" but he didn't immediately see who it was. There was a figure in the darkness, but America was having trouble figuring out who it was._

"_Hey, who are you?" America called out warily. The figure didn't respond. It didn't even shift an inch. When the figure started slowly walking away, America followed after without wondering why really. He just didn't want to be left behind in the obscurity alone._

_His footsteps echoed eerily in this darkness, making America feel more uneasy by the minute. He realized that only his footsteps could be heard, he couldn't hear the other's footsteps at all. _

_-Oh my God it's a ghost!- America thought frantically but somehow he couldn't stop following the figure, however much he tried putting a large distance between him and the "ghost"._

_America then caught sight of England. The little England. The figure walked over to England and stopped next to him. England turned around and seemed surprised to find America standing not far from him. _

_Something shifted behind England and America realized that there wasn't just one shadowy figure, but two! He was even more shocked as they started morphing into clearer forms._

_Both forms were Englands. Versions of the older England. Both Englands were wearing the redcoat that America had seen so often during the revolution. _

_But one of them was carrying a musket. The other wasn't._

_One of them had hard cold eyes. The other had tears streaming down his face. _

_The uniform of one was just muddy. The other was muddy and tainted with blood._

_One of the forms raised his musket and pointed it at the small England. This England was still facing America and was unaware that the redcoat England was pointing his musket at him. The island nation was opening and closing his mouth, as if yelling something at America._

_But America couldn't hear him. His eyes were focussed on the musket pointed at England. He opened his mouth and screeched, "England, behind you!"_

_Just at that moment the redcoat England looked up at America and grinned sadistically. The other, unarmed, redcoat England closed his eyes tightly and looked away as the other England with the musket pulled the trigger._

_Unthinking America rushed forward, in a false belief that he might push England away just in time._

_But instead of a loud resounding bang, light exploded from the musket and filled the whole of America's vision, all traces of darkness chased away like demon-like shadows. The white faded and America found himself on a battlefield. _

_England was beside him, thankfully he wasn't harmed at all. England was looking at America in confusion and asked, "What are you doing in my memory? How did you get here?" His voice was echoing as well, as if he was in a cave instead of an open battlefield._

_Before America could quite answer, both nations became aware of a sobbing figure in front of them. America looked down at an England in his redcoat uniform from the revolution, still on his knees and crying._

_The American realized that this was one of England's memory after America and his men had left the field. He, along with England, felt himself being pulled in by the flow of the memory. He felt himself being assimilated with England's mind, getting a steady flow of the Brit's thoughts. _

_A dark voice was sneering_, _**Well, well... it's British Empire now, isn't it? A pathetic excuse of an empire! **_

_The empire sobbed harder and dug his fingers into the mud, frantically thinking why the voice was back to torture him again. He didn't want to hear it, he wanted to ignore the voice. _

"_P-please... leave me alone... please..." England whimpered weakly, shaking his head in a feeble attempt to get rid of the voice. _

_But England's attempt at ignoring the voice was fruitless. Even worse, it seemed to egg on the dark voice even more._

_The voice cut through mercilessly. __**Why try to escape from what you are? You just managed to prove to yourself how pathetically weak you are...**_

_England held his head, digging his fingers into his scalp painfully. "No... get out..." He whispered desperately. But deep inside him a flicker of anger was growing and growing, a deep hatred. And it was directed at England._

_The sobbing stopped abruptly, England refused to utter another pathetic sound from himself. It was true, how pathetic must he look right now, crying on this God forsaken battlefield? England was still hiccupping and his heart was throbbing painfully against his chest. It felt tight and constricting, beating too quickly._

_And he hated his heart for that._

_**Can't even keep a mere colony in line... You couldn't even shoot that worthless brat... you're a weakling, you're a weakling, you're a weakling, YOU'RE A WEAKLING, YOU'RE A WEAKLING, WEAKLING, WEAKLING, WEAKLING!**_

_Suddenly something inside England snapped. Weakling... it echoed ominously in England's head. Yes... he was a weakling. Always has been. He was doomed to be a weakling for eternity. Hadn't he proven to the world often enough how pathetically weak he was?_

_Well, weakness was not to be tolerated. England wasn't supposed to be weak, true empires are not weak! So if he wants to be a true empire he has to stop being a weakling!_

_But what made him a weakling?_

_His heart was still beating too quickly, aching for the loss of America._

_England narrowed his eyes dangerously at himself._

_It was his heart, wasn't it? The source of all weaknesses..._

_Without even thinking England grabbed at his belt for something and a quick and aggressive slashing motion was all the warning his body got from his intentions._

_A searing pain ripped through his body and England cried out in pain. His mind became aware of the jack-knife that he was clutching tightly in both hands, having cut through the fabric of England's uniform and past the skin..._

_The empire was panting harshly, mildly aware of the warm blood trickling from him. "If-if this is how I will feel every time I lose someone then... t-then I don't want a heart! I don't want to be weak! I don't need this heart, it's a worthless organ..." England choked out hatefully, his body trembling in silent protest._

_England let out a pained gasp as he pushed the blade deeper... it was hurting so much but he wanted the heart gone. He didn't want to be continually dragged down by his feelings and other... useless things that England didn't need. He didn't need them to be an empire._

_The pain was growing greater and the heart, as if sensing it's impending doom, started beating a lot quicker. England gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the pain. But it was too much, his hands were starting to shake._

_He loosened his grip and threw the jack-knife as far away from him as possible. England collapsed onto the muddy ground, wrapping his arms around his chest. Over the self-inflicted gash. England was gasping and choking, the pain was impossible for him to handle. _

_Tears sprang up again at the pain and the empire writhed on the ground as the waves of pain assaulted his nerves again and again. England raised a trembling hand up to wipe his tears away and noticed how red his hand had become._

_His bloodstained hand._

_Like a rose._

_A hateful rose. _

_England covered his eyes with his hand, his eyelashes picking up the red substance. Soon all he could see was the red. The empire shed more bitter tears and then laughed hysterically. How idiotic he was, trying to remove his heart! Didn't he know that without his heart he would cease to live? _

_How stupid of him. But that was to be expected from a nation like him. He was nothing but a weakling after all._

_**Weakling. **__The dark voice spat out contemptuously._

_England rolled unto his back and stared blankly at the cloudy sky. Red blood was still flowing, staining his red uniform. His hands still covered with warm blood. His heart was still beating. But England was feeling cold. There was no warmth left in him, no warmth left in this world for him._

_He didn't deserve it anyway._

"_...Weakling." England murmured softly to himself, staring at the blue skies with dazed eyes. The vision became blurred as tears welled up in his dull green eyes._

_**No more warmth for you England. No comfort. You don't deserve it.**_

_**You never deserved it.**_

* * *

**A/N**

And holy shi-! If you guys remember right, America saw all this! Yes, this last memory was seen by America and you bet he heard the dark voice too! For the people who always said how much of a shame it was that the dark voice was going to stay something private, that it was never going to be revealed, well, I've come to contradict you. ^^ Before people ask how it was possible, it will be explained later on. Not sure if it is next chapter or not, but the reason America got access to England's memory will be explained. There is a reason. Oh yeah, there's no Romano getting in trouble yet, that will be in the next chapter. ;)

Now, I think I might have hit a difficult patch here. Well, it's not really a huge problem with the story, it's about England's brothers. Many people assume that Scotland is the oldest, but as many of you know from me by now, Ireland is the oldest brother in my view. (Irish is the third oldest written language in Europe, after all. First place: Greek. Second place: Latin) However there is a slight problem... Scotland may be even younger than I thought. Well, the age gap between Scotland and Wales is gettting pretty tight. Now, of course it depends whether or not you believe that Scotland used to be Pictland, the land of the Picts. (the original inhabitants of Scotland) In my opinion, Scotland and Pictland are different people simply because the Picts are possibly not Celtic, whereas Scotland is a Celtic nation. (the theories about who the Picts were is that they were either Scythians, Iberians or Finnish-Estonian. Not Celtic.) Anyway, I'm reading a book on Celtic legends (amazing book btw) which mentions stories from Ireland, Scotland, Isle of Man, Wales, Cornwall and Brittany. While the book gave me many new headcanons on England's brothers, I've started to wonder a little bit about Scotland's history. I found that the earliest founding of Scotland could only be in 900 AD, where the Kingdom of Alba was founded when both Pictland (the Picts) and Dál Riata (a kingdom of the Irish invaders) merged together. Hmm, maybe I should read more on Dál Riata, there used to be a theory that it was an Irish colony. Most historians don't believe that anymore, but you know with Hetalia... colony=child. And anyway, Dál Riata is still a pocket of Irish people that left Ireland to live in Scotland, a bit similar like the English people leaving England to live in America. So maybe Scotland used to be Dál Riata... well, I will tell you next time what my searching has unearthed.

Alright, I'll stop with England's brothers. Back to the main story: You've seen the memory of the Revolution in it's entirety now. And as you can see from the confrontation between America and England, I'm one of those few fans who doesn't believe that America left because he loved England and wanted to have England see him as a pontential lover. I believe that America wanted his independence, nothing love-related. If America truly loved England as a lover back then, he would have never left him. No matter how much people try to justify this, when you love someone, you wouldn't be able to bear hurting the person you love. Even if America wanted to make England see him as a potential lover, going to war and breaking away from England definitely is not a way to do it. Well, that's the way I see it. I hope that the rest about the Revolution in this chapter was straightforward, you're allowed to ask me anything if there's something that is not clear. I just hope the whole scene wasn't too sappy, I tried to keep to the absolute minimum.

A tidbit about Ireland's independence. He became independent in 1922 and what happens in the same year? Ireland gets a civil war. (from 1922 to 1923) The reason for this civil war? Northern Ireland! When Ireland got his independence, Northern Ireland voted to stay in the UK. A split appeared between the Irish people: Some of them were happy with the freedom they already had and opted to be content with what they had. Others were furious that Northern Ireland was staying with the UK and yelled that all Ireland should be free. There was such a disagreement between the people that a civil war broke out and it's kind of sad because many of the Irish people who had fought together to achieve Ireland's freedom, were suddenly they fighting against each other. A perfect movie for this time period: "The Wind That Shakes The Barley". One torture scene and a lot of violence, but overall a good movie about two brothers finding themselves facing each other in combat, both having different idealogies.

Alright, long author note, better shut up. Next chapter will finally reveal WHAT the dark voice is exactly. Not that it will do much good knowing what it is, it will still be there.


	33. Chapter 33

Sorry guys for being late, it was impossible after all to write the chapter while my father was clinging to me 90% of the time. I've also had to say good-bye to my mother as she won't be there to bade me farewell at the university, my father is emotionally draining me and my sister by constantly whining about the divorce, I've had a few worries with the university regarding accommodations, registering fully and have tons of other stuff on my mind. I should also warn you that I might try to upload two more chapters in my last 3 weeks of holidays but once university starts, I have absolutely no clue how regular my updates would be. There will be in the beginning this thing called Freshers' Week which basically is all about introducing the new students to the city and it gives everyone a chance to get to know each other. I suppose I should participate, befriend some people so I don't find myself completely on my own. I am very socially awkward and I would rather be in front of my laptop, surfing through the internet and writing this story. But I need human contact as well, so you will have to be patient with me. The story will not go on a hiatus nor will it be ever discontinued, but I need you all to be patient and not to demand "moar" and then throw a fit if I can't whip the next chapter up quickly enough. Anyway, this chapter is huge again, about 39 pages with 16,000 words. It should be long enough to satisfy you guys, I hope...

On to another thing, I really don't know whether I should hate my father or not. Most of the time he is very clingy, very touchy-feely (more than should be allowed in daughter-father relationship) his hatred for England and the English language is so evident despite his claims that he doesn't hate them, he rants about the English like a broken recorder that repeats, he can be very obnoxious, posesses next to no emotional intelligence, he clearly needs therapy because he had a troubled childhood and acts today more like an overgrown boy. *sigh* But then... he has those shining moments. Where you can sit with him and talk, and discover tiny tidbits of information you would have never gotten anywhere else. My father has a big love for the various nations so the things he tells me sometimes actually helps me with getting new headcanon on the nations. Like one week ago, I was sitting at the table and drawing England and Wales when they were young. My father came to sit beside and watched me draw for a moment, looking thoughtful. Then he suddenly looked at me and said, "Did you know that Wales loves singing?" At first, I was a bit like "huh?" but I was intrigued by what he had said. He explained to me that from all the Celtic nations, Wales was definately the nation who enjoyed singing the most, even being nicknamed sometimes the "Land of Song". My father described to me when about 30 years ago, he spent some weeks in Wales to learn Welsh, he noticed how much the Welsh people loved singing. Heck, they would even meet together in a pub for some drinks and then sing hymns that you usually find only in churches! XD And when their rugby team is playing, sometimes the Welsh start singing their national anthem to encourage the team during the game. I dunno, I find the idea that Wales loves singing adorable somehow... and that's why sometimes I find myself unable to dislike my father because there he shared something with me that was interesting and I actually wanted to know more.

X_x Ah well, I'll shut up about my family problems. Have the new chapter and hope you enjoy it! ^^

* * *

Chapter 33

"_America!" A small voice called out distantly. Out of nowhere, a tiny hand reached out and grabbed America's hand and started tugging at it as the image of the battlefield faded away into the darkness. America was then completely immersed in the dark, he couldn't even see England anymore. However he felt like he was still being pulled by someone._

_Someone was shouting his name frantically, shaking his shoulders roughly. He couldn't recognize whose voice it was but the other sounded extremely worried and frightened. America frowned and willed himself to step out of the darkness and towards the sound of his name. He heard other voices too, these voices sounding anxious as well._

_The American narrowed his eyes and put more effort into getting out of the darkness._

Suddenly he opened his eyes wide with a jerk, as if snapping out of a trance. He was lying on his back on the bed. Hovering over him was Canada. And Wales. And Ireland. And Scotland. And Northern Ireland. All five nations were looking at America with concern but they seemed to sigh with relief when America blinked.

America blinked a few more times to confirm that he was really surrounded by five different nations and then proceeded to hesitantly ask, "Hey, what just happened? Why are you all looking at me like that?"

"You just... stopped responding to me." Canada was looking at America worriedly. "You took England's hand into your own and squeezed it and then you just stopped responding. You were like England, you had those strange shadows in your eyes as well. I shook you and tried to pull you out of your trance-like state but nothing I did seemed to have an effect on you. I called Wales and the others for help but none of us could wake you up."

"How long have I been out?" America asked a bit groggily, sitting up in an attempt to clear his head. He felt slightly muddled, as if a big block of information had been shoved into his head.

"Almost 10 minutes, you had us all worried. England woke up just a few minutes ago..." Wales explained as he crossed his arms and looked at England worriedly, who sat on the bed beside him. America looked around at all the other nations before settling his gaze on England.

"I feel like I was dreaming..." America mumbled uncertainly, still feeling a bit dizzy. England looked pale and uncomfortable, shifting his gaze away from America.

"It... wasn't a dream. It was a memory..." England corrected quietly, his eyes still averted from the American's. The other nations looked at England in surprise, apparently the Brit hadn't told them what had happened to America and him. Only Ireland seemed to recognize what England was talking about and suddenly he looked uneasy.

"Huh?" America looked at England dumbfoundedly. What had that dream- no, memory, been about again? America started to recollect what he had seen and things quickly rushed back to him. The images that returned were perfectly clear in his head, as if they somehow lacked the shadowy dream-like quality most dreams tended to have.

He remembered the two redcoat Englands standing behind the smaller one, one of them pointing a musket at England, about to fire at the Brit.

He remembered the muddy battlefield, the battlefield that America remembered so clearly from his own memories.

He remembered England on his knees, crying bitterly.

He remembered being astonished that he was actually able to hear and follow England's thought process and he also noted with curiosity the dark voice that was speaking in England's head, wondering slightly who the heck that voice was.

And then he remembered...

America's eyes widened as the images started to sink in.

"N-no way..."

The slashing movement the knife made in England's hand.

"No freaking way..."

The blood... the blood-stained hands...

"God no..."

The gash... the big scar England had on his chest, directly over his heart...

_He inflicted that wound himself!_

"NO!" America yelled angrily as he surged forward to everyone's surprise and grabbed England roughly by his shoulders. "You can't be serious, please tell me you didn't do this to yourself!" America demanded harshly, shaking England's shoulders. England was staring at America completely petrified, his eyes wide with fear at the American's anger.

Suddenly hands grabbed at America and forcibly separated him from England, pulling him off the bed.

"Goddammit America, what's gone into you?" Scotland exclaimed alarmed as he and Ireland grabbed a hold of America's arms and dragged him away from England, holding America down as best as they could. Wales, Northern Ireland and Canada quickly moved to shield England from the enraged American.

"HE... HE… THIS ISN'T THE FIRST TIME ENGLAND TRIED COMMITING SUICIDE!" America bellowed, struggling against the grips of the two elder nations. He cursed the fact that combined, both Celtic nations were able to hold America back.

"WHAT?" The other nations all simultaneously exclaimed in shock, Ireland and Scotland almost letting go of America in their surprise. However they quickly tightened their grips again, not allowing America to get any closer to England in his enraged state.

Canada moved swiftly towards America and then grasped his head with his hands. His nervous purple eyes met with America's angry blue eyes. "America, calm down! What happened, what did you see?" But America didn't seem to hear the Canadian, more focussed on freeing himself from Ireland and Scotland. Canada frowned darkly, he hated it when he was ignored like that. Without a warning, he bumped his forehead against America's, the bump strong enough to stop America in his struggles.

The whole room fell silent. America had abruptly stopped struggling and was staring in confusion at his North American brother. After a few seconds of silence, both Scotland and Ireland deemed the American calm enough and released him. America struggled to his feet and stood up, looking at Canada oddly.

Canada was staring at America seriously, his lips in a thin line. He then said firmly, "Now that you've snapped out of it, will you calm down and explain to us in an ADULT WAY, what you saw in England's memory?"

America was still staring dumbly at Canada. "You... why did you do that? That was weird..."

"I hate it when you ignore me but I don't think you would have appreciated it if I had slapped you. That was the best I could come up with." Canada explained, still looking somewhat irritated. "Will you tell us now what you saw?"

America sighed, willing himself to calm down. He really couldn't believe the memory he had just seen from England... he didn't want to believe that it was a genuine memory. Still, he recounted everything he had seen in the memory, from the strange dark voice inside England's head to the Brit's... attempted suicide. On the hindsight, it could be seen as a deranged England trying to remove his heart to stop caring and feeling. But it still could have been fatal if England had gone ahead and removed his heart. What worried America the most was the dark voice who had initially egged England on to commit the act.

As he told the tale, the expressions of the listening nations seemed to become more and more shocked and appalled. Only England was looking away, but America could spot a few errant tears trickling down his cheeks. The little island nation wiped the tears away hastily but he still kept his gaze downcast. Feeling a pang of guilt, America wondered how frightening he must have been to put England in a state of crying. Why was he always going and messing things up again?

When America had finished telling the others everything he knew, he slowly moved over and hesitantly hugged England. Ireland and Scotland followed America's movement closely while Wales looked ready to pull the two English-speaking nations apart. But there was no anger in America's movements and his eyes expressed his guilt and remorse.

"I'm really sorry England, I didn't mean to snap at you like that." America apologised honestly. "I just... always saw you as a stable nation so I was shocked when you... tried to kill yourself all those months ago. And now I learn that you've tried killing yourself before that even..."

"But what am I supposed to do?" England response was muffled by America's jacket but then he pulled back from America to stare at him with accusing eyes. "You're getting angry with me when I've had no memories of this event until now and... I'm not that England. I'm not the same person. These memories are not mine, they're from the previous England."

"While I do partly agree with England," Wales spoke up, staring at the Brit warningly, "I have to disagree with the rest you just said. True, you're not exactly the same England... but they're your memories. Or else you wouldn't be receiving them. You're still England."

"Wales is right, you know." Canada nodded insistently. "You can't reject those memories England."

"Okay, but this isn't the same England who tried killing himself!" America protested, shaking his head.

"Actually, going by what you've told us... it sounds like England didn't consider it as killing himself." Ireland crossed his arms, looking still disturbed by the revelation of what the past England had done.

England looked thoughtful, "England... I mean, I was trying to remove my heart to stop feeling... I didn't think I was trying to kill myself, at least the thought didn't occur to me until after I had thrown the knife away."

"I think I would like to know more about what America describes as... "the creepy dark voice in England's head"?" Canada looked at America and England with questioning eye. Wales and the other Celtic nations nodded in agreement. Whatever in the world did America mean by this "dark voice"? It certainly didn't sound like a normal thing to have, especially since America had described that this dark voice had "egged" England on to remove his heart.

"True, isn't it strange that you heard a voice inside England's head that didn't seem to belong to England?" Scotland scratched his chin, looking thoughtful.

"It's strange that America could hear England's thoughts at all. Or was even able to watch the memory with England in the first place." Northern Ireland muttered quietly.

"How exactly did the voice sound like?" Canada asked curiously.

"Exactly the way I described it: dark, evil and sadistic." America answered, who then turned to England. "How come you never told us about that voice? Was it the first time you heard it in your memories?" America inquired, puzzled that England had never given any indication of this voice in his head. England didn't have any trouble talking about his imaginary friends or magic, so how come he had never mentioned a dark voice?

England frowned, searching through his memories. His eyes widened in realization. "I heard the voice several times in my nightmares but I also heard it outside of my dreams now and again but I didn't think much about it until now. I wonder what it is..."

Canada looked hesitant for a few moments before he proposed tentatively, "Could it be perhaps... your ego?"

"Ego?" The nations chorused in confusion, all turning their heads to stare at Canada with questioning eyes. What was the Canadian proposing?

The Canadian seemed to falter a moment due to the sudden shift in the nations' attention onto him but he quickly regained himself and elaborated, "Yes, his ego. From what America has said, it possibly could be England's ego that's behind this "dark voice"."

"But doesn't ego mean thinking too highly of yourself and to be very self-absorbed in personality?" Scotland asked in bewilderment.

"Someone like Prussia?" America added helpfully to Scotland's statement after a few moments, not looking any wiser than before. None of the other nations seemed to know more either.

Canada looked from one blank face to the other and then sighed. He then explained, "That's called the high ego. But there is another one, the low ego. That ego completely contrasts the high ego by being constantly bitter, harsh, self-criticizing, hateful and just about anything that pulls you down and makes you feel worthless."

"Uhh..." America furrowed his eyebrows, still not seeming to follow, "Where'd you get that kind of information from? I've never heard anything about all this ego stuff"

"It's from a book that I've been reading recently." Canada explained patiently. "The ego is something similar to our inner voice but it isn't, it's too different to be considered a part of us. They're in our minds, part of us and yet... they're not us. The ego is an individual part of our mind, it thinks it always has to be right... some call it an integral part of our consciousness that forms our own personal identity while others claim that we must fight it and not allow ourselves to be formed by solely the ego. I personally think it is the voice that encourages the irrational behaviour we all fall victim to from time to time, but that's just my opinion."

"...And... I have that?" England pointed at himself, looking suddenly afraid. So the "dark voice" was his ego? During all this time, England had been tortured by his own ego?

"We all have it." Canada underlined gravely.

"Hey, I never heard a creepy voice in my head." America pointed out, slightly affronted. He would have never allowed such a disease to even enter his mind, let alone control him as it had controlled England back then.

"Nor have I." Ireland agreed, frowning darkly at the thought of having something like the dark voice.

"It's not the point of hearing a voice or not. We all have it, we're probably even born with it. We just don't notice its existence until later, when we start looking to the future and the past more than the present." Canada shook his head. "For most of the time the ego disguises itself as simply thoughts in our heads. Egos go through phases, at times they can be high and at other times they can be low. Or they're simply silent most of the time."

"I still don't think I understand..." Northern Ireland mumbled, still looking lost and hating the feeling.

"It's really simple." Canada insisted, looking at the surrounded nations. "High ego makes you feel like you're the best in the world and low ego makes you feel completely worthless. Of course they come depending to how we're feeling. So you can't randomly start hearing the high or the low ego talking to you now. In most cases you don't even notice when the ego starts talking."

England seemed to start to understand, "I actually only seem to hear that dark voice in my nightmares and outside of them when I'm feeling negative. I haven't heard it otherwise."

"So, that dark voice that both I and England heard is England's ego? How come it was egging England to kill himself, wouldn't it be destroying itself?" America cocked his head to one side as he tried to wrap his mind around the concept of this whole "ego" business. His northern brother was making this ego stuff sound very complicated.

Canada shook his head again, "It doesn't think that way America, it lacks this kind of consciousness. The ego always thinks it's right and should be listened too and is capable of being very destructive. However it's only very strong if the person listens to it and relies too heavily on it."

Wales leant back and scratched his chin thoughtfully. "So you're saying that England relied too much on his own ego in the past?"

"P-possibly, I can't say for sure." Canada replied, feeling a bit uncertain about his answer. "From what America described, the force at which the ego attacked England does leave room for suspicion at how much England has listened to it in the past."

England thought for few moments and then huffed loudly, "Well, I don't want to hear it anymore! I hate it, I want it to leave me alone. I want to be able to ignore it."

"That's exactly what you're supposed to do." Canada replied, smiling at England encouragingly. "The best course of action is simply to ignore the ego and not to believe what it says. They're not your own thoughts and shouldn't be considered as such. By not reacting to it anymore, it gets weaker."

The nations around Canada seemed to finally comprehend the concept of an ego, although the thought was still quite alien to them. Wales suddenly found himself mulling over a thought that was starting to make him uneasy. The Welsh nation decided to voice it hesitantly, "Do you know maybe how someone may start to rely on their ego too much?"

Canada seemed surprised by the strange question but readily answered, "It really depends on that person's personal development that decides how much they start to rely on their ego. Most people who rely too much on their ego are those who have hardly received external positive feedback when they were young. So spoiled, neglected or lonely children are the most likely to rely heavily on their ego."

Wales seemed to frown at the answer, not at all at ease with it. It was only confirming his worst suspicions...

All were surprised to hear the doorbell ring. Wales looked up in surprise and then smiled. "Ah yes, I forgot to mention that after I had sent text messages to say that England was safe to all those who had participated in the search, some insisted to come here to check on him. I suppose it must be them now."

The doorbell rang again, a bit more insistently than last time. Scotland chuckled in amusement, "And it seems like our visitors are not that familiar with the concept of patience. I'll go answer the door." The Scottish nation stood up and left the room.

Everyone proceeded to stand up as well. America got up from the bed, wondering out loud, "So, we should all go meet them? Who actually came?"

"We'll see." Wales shrugged, and motioned for the others to pass by him. As soon as almost everyone was out of the room, Wales reached out and grasped Ireland's sleeve. Ireland stopped to look at Wales, looking slightly confused.

"What is it, Breatain Beag?" Ireland asked curiously, noticing for perhaps the first time how perturbed his younger brother seemed.

"Ireland, what Canada has just told us has made me have a horrible realization..." Wales mumbled quietly, his eyes downcast.

"What exactly did Ceanada say to make you feel that?" Ireland questioned lowly.

Wales shook his head and then looked at Ireland worriedly, "All this talk about the England's ego... are… are we the reason why England relied so much on his ego?"

* * *

"Ah mon cher Angleterre, I was soooo worried about you!" France exclaimed loudly as soon as the door was opened. The French nation quickly launched himself at the Brit and pulled him into a tight hug. England jumped slightly, seemingly startled by France's enthusiasm.

"Ve, are you okay England?" Italy appeared behind France, looking very cheerful. Germany was beside the Italian and Spain was on Italy's other side. France released England and stared at him closely, as if studying his closely.

"You aren't hurt, are you? You didn't hurt yourself during all this nation-hopping?" The French nation asked worriedly. Similar questions sprang forth from the other nations as they gathered around England.

England seemed very bewildered and a bit overwhelmed by the attention. He was only able to nod or shake his head mutely to the others' questions. Eventually America walked over to him and told the others. "Okay, calm down guys. Stop crowding him." America waved his hands a bit, trying to indicate to the other to give England more breathing space.

France pouted in response, "Easy for you to say America, I was almost dead with worry. I couldn't even sleep peacefully during the night. Is it so unusual for me to be glad that England is safe?"

"And I still can't understand why Inglaterra ran away." Spain whined as he looked at England, clearly wondering what had been the Brit's reason to flee.

America bit back a sneer, but he almost couldn't help it. Instead he managed to grit out, "Why don't you ask Romano?" At the mention of Romano's name, both the expressions of Scotland and Northern Ireland darkened ominously. The new arrivals could only look in astonishment at the reactions while Canada looked at America and the Celtic nations in confusion. What were they talking about now? What had Romano to do with all this?

"Ve, Romano? He's not here, he said he didn't feel like coming with us when I asked him." Italy responded, looking momentarily pensive. Then he shrugged off whatever he was thinking about and went back to looking at America in puzzlement, wondering why America looked suddenly so angry. The Italian knew America and he was rarely provoked into such an rage.

"Do you think Romano has anything to do with England's fleeing?" Germany asked carefully, a little curiosity appearing in his stern eyes. It would explain Romano's strange behaviour in the meeting yesterday and his apparent unwillingness to reveal more about what could have caused England to run away. Germany had already thought that Romano was odd but yesterday, he had simply assumed that the Italian was being contrary and didn't feel like cooperating.

Scotland scoffed, "He's the main reason why England ran away from us. Romano fed him lies about all of us hating him."

A stunned silence followed Scotland's statement, but the expressions of Canada and the newcomers was enough to express their shock over this revelation. The uneasy silence was first broken by the unbelieving Spanish nation. "Dios mío, my Romano did such a terrible thing?" Spain exclaimed, completely shocked by Scotland's words. He frowned, unable to wrap his mind around the fact that Romano had been this vicious for no apparent reason. Why had he said this to England?

"My brother did this?" Italy blinked slowly, his face blank. He then looked at England fearfully and shakily said, "Don't be angry with Romano, he sometimes gets in a bad mood but he isn't a bad person. H-he c-can't help it! I-I'm sure he didn't mean whatever he told you, he never means it. D-don't be angry at him…"

Germany's expression, however, had darkened considerably. "So Romano is responsible for all this fiasco? Then I will need to talk with him about this event. I will not stand for such behaviour, especially not within the European Union. We should all be promoting diversity and understanding among us, not causing strife and confusion. Romano has some explaining to do."

"But Germany, don't be too harsh on Romano! You know he isn't a bad person, he never means his words. Don't punish him…" Italy pleaded, turning to look at Germany imploringly with his large innocent eyes.

The German nation seemed to redden a bit at this but was mercifully saved from explaining his reaction when America interjected sharply, "No Italy, Romano lied to all of us and put England in danger. I would very much like to see Romano getting punished. Or at least told off. But he definitely shouldn't be getting off scot-free."

England shifted awkwardly, having remained silent until now. He ventured, "I would also like to have Romano told off. I don't understand why he told me these lies but I don't think it was fair to use my lack of knowledge to scare me… especially since I didn't do anything to provoke him."

"Well, he always seems grumpy to me. Whether provoked or unprovoked, he always seems ready for a fight. Maybe he was just in a very bad mood on that day and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time and he took all his rage out on you." Scotland proposed, shrugging his shoulders. Just then Ireland and Wales came down the stairs, both wearing a grim expression.

"Alors, what were you two doing upstairs until now? You're a bit late joining the reunion party…" France asked with a mischievous smile, his eyes twinkling. Both Celtic nations started at France's words and quickly attempted to look less grim in front of the other nations.

"We were just discussing something that is none of your business, you perverted frog." Ireland shot back, regaining himself a lot quicker than Wales.

France's smile widened into a creepy grin, "Ah, by discussing you mean-"

Suddenly the French nation found himself unable to continue the sentence. The reason for that was that he was currently in a headlock of Germany who had hastily covered his mouth. "No obscenities here France." Germany warned lowly, frowning sternly. France looked at the German nation and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, upon which Germany sniffed and looked away.

"What are obscenities?" England asked curiously, the word sounding familiar to him.

Italy looked momentarily thoughtful before replying brightly, "Well, obscenities are... ve, sometimes Germany says them a lot when he's very angry or when he's-"

By some miracle Germany managed to silence Italy just in time by releasing France from his headlock and covering Italy's mouth. Italy blinked, looking at Germany in confusion. The German nation was now very red in the face and was looking quite uncomfortable. He quickly tried composing himself and explained to England, "What Italy meant to say was that obscenities are simply indecent words that people use when they are angry or being provocative."

England nodded slowly and then looked at France carefully. "And France was being provocative, right?"

France smiled and shrugged nonchalantly, "Well Angleterre, it's entertaining to see people's reaction when you say something "provocative" to them. Especially when they become embarrassed or flustered. Actually, you were always my favourite victim because you were provoked so easily…"

"I was really that easily provoked?" England looked stunned by this new piece of information about the past England.

"Yeah, you were well known for your short temper." Scotland joked, grinning widely.

The gathered nations chuckled at that, all of them remembering a different memory where England had only too easily lost patience and launched himself at France. France winced slightly as he remembered those times, they weren't exactly painless memories for him. England however couldn't help but feel a little jealous that everyone but him seemed to remember, wishing he had those memories too.

"Alright, so I think it is best for us to leave then." Germany concluded, looking at Italy. "You confirmed that England was well and safe, so we don't need to disturb him any longer. Now I have to go and find Romano and have a talk with him, he definitely needs to apologise for his conduct towards England. And may I remind you that we all have some catching up to do with the work we left undone yesterday?"

At that, the other nations groaned loudly. Germany crossed his arms and frowned, "What, groaning so much about just some paperwork? Where is the enthusiasm?"

France glanced at Germany and sighed dramatically, "It's so typical of you, the workaholic, to remind us of the work we have to do and spoil the fun for everyone."

"If I don't do it, then none of you would bother remembering." Germany said sternly and started shooing the nations out of the house. He turned back to look at England and his brothers. "Danke for letting us come over for a few minutes. I'll deal with Romano myself and I will make sure that he will come here and apologise for his actions."

"Thank you." Wales responded, nodding his head at the German nation.

"Germany, I will come with you to talk with Romano too." America suddenly piped up, cracking his knuckles in display. His azure eyes were burning with determination and an unhealthier glint, vengeance.

The German nation looked at America closely for a few seconds before swiftly shaking his head. "No America, it's fine. I want to handle this on my own. You don't need to interfere."

"What if I want to interfere?" America demanded challengingly, crossing his arms as he looked at Germany.

Germany frowned and shook his head again, "No , Romano is a European nation who is a member of the EU. I am a European nation and also an EU member. Even England is a European nation who is part of the EU. However, you're a North American nation and you're not a member of the EU. I deal with this."

The American pouted, "You're doing that whole Europe=/= United States thing again, aren't you? I wanted Romano to get at least a little public humiliation."

"Yeah, that sounds good." Scotland agreed, both Northern Ireland and Ireland nodding their heads approvingly as well. However, Canada, Wales and Germany frowned at the idea and shook their heads in response. England looked torn between agreeing and disagreeing to the idea, looking from one nation to another.

"America, we should handle this as privately as possible. Publicly humiliating Romano will do no one good, not even him. It will make him more resentful and it will definitely not improve his relationship with England. Therefore I will handle this myself." Germany explained, frowning disapprovingly at America, Scotland and at the other nations who had agreed with America's plan. Revenge would definitely be bad and Germany was certainly not allowing anyone with that motive near Romano. He understood their anger and their wish to protect England but revenge was not the answer. Germany should know, look what the thirst for vengeance did to him in the past?

America looked at Germany in annoyance but was unable to counter the European nation's argument. He couldn't actually claim that revenge was good, he himself had also seen what revenge does. But he still couldn't help but feel angry at Germany for being the reasonable one and standing in America's way when he wanted to tell Romano a piece of his mind.

Germany was looking at America closely and after a minute, satisfied that the American had not tried to counter him again, he said, "Then I hope it's settled. I hope that I will not get any word that you have gone to Romano's house against your better judgement."

"Err, I will make sure that America will not go." Canada proposed hesitantly, not looking too sure of his own words. But when America shot him a livid look, Canada frowned and shook his head in disapproval at his brother, telling him silently not to do anything rash.

America pouted and looked away from the Canadian, muttering quietly under his breath, "Yeah, yeah, go and suck up to Germany."

"I'm keeping you out of trouble America, not sucking up." Canada huffed, nudging America with his elbow. But America kept his eyes averted, sulking silently. Germany looked from Canada to America and then gazed at England's brothers, giving them also the warning glance "the same goes to you". Scotland and Ireland rolled their eyes.

"So it's settled. I shall go and talk with Romano then, I will make sure he will come today to apologise to England for his words." Before leaving, Germany turned to look at America and Canada, "Oh, and if you two also have work to catch up on, I would suggest you to go home and do it. I shouldn't remind you too that there will be a World Meeting in a few days." With that Germany left, closing the door behind him.

"Maples, I do have work to do..." Canada sighed tiredly.

"Germany can be such a party-pooper." America grumbled, he too had to do some paperwork. Why did Germany have to go and remind everyone of their workload? Couldn't they just let the paperwork slide for once?

"Agreed, but someone has to be." Ireland sighed as well.

"We should best be getting down to work then. We have to prepare for the World Meeting after all." Wales said, already thinking of what he should do.

"Err, where is the World Meeting taking place this time?" Canada suddenly asked, a bit annoyed at himself that he completely had no idea where it was this time.

"Umm, I think it was at India's place." America proposed uncertainly.

"Yes, it's at her place." Wales nodded in confirmation.

"It's too bad Gearmáin won't let us at Romano though. Who actually told him he was the boss in the EU?" Ireland huffed, crossing his arms.

"No one, but since Germany and France founded the EU, they both sort of assume that they're the bosses. Especially France, the way he sometimes behaves in those meetings is just frustrating. He's always whining and hardly ever wants to accept changes in the EU, it really gets annoying sometimes." Wales rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he frowned at the memory.

"Hey, if we can't get back at Romano physically… why don't we get to him in another way?" Scotland suddenly said with a sly smile, a strange gleam appearing in his green eyes. He looked at Ireland meaningfully, his smile widening.

Ireland looked at the younger nation in confusion at first, but then his face split into a feral grin as he realized what Scotland was referring to. He murmured softly, "Mallachtaí? Hmm, I like how you think Alba."

Northern looked at the two eldest brothers in confusion, before carefully asking, "You mean… curses?"

"Curses?" America and Canada echoed in confusion and concern. They looked between each other, trying to understand what the hell the two Celtic nations were up to. England was also looking quite worried, having a faint recollection that curses were very bad news. At least he felt very uneasy watching the Irishman and Scot grin so gleefully, it reminded him of how his ego sometimes smiled.

Wales also watched Ireland and Scotland in shocked silence, before quickly shaking his head and snapping harshly, "No, absolutely not! You will not indulge in curses, you know how dangerous they are! You might mess up in them too!"

"Are curse even real?" America asked uneasily, looking at the Celtic nations as if he wanted to ask as well if they were serious at all. Canada also looked like he wanted to sorely question their sanity.

"Yes they are!" The three elder Celtic nations exclaimed simultaneously.

"Come on Wales, be a bit more open-minded to fun. A tiny curse won't hurt Romano… too badly." Scotland added the last part of his sentence as an afterthought, grinning sheepishly at Wales who only shot him a warning glare.

"We could curse Romano with "may every day be wet for you". That curse is simply and harmless enough." Ireland proposed eagerly, trying to convince the Welsh nation. Wales raised a thick eyebrow at them, not convinced at all.

"Pff… that's way too soft. How about "May the Devil swallow you sideways"?" Scotland scoffed, smiling proudly as he picked a better curse.

Ireland winced at the proposition, "Too harsh, how about "May the Devil take you by the heels and shake you" instead?"

"Why does Romano have to get the Devil? He's very religious, I don't think the Devil would dare approach him." Northern Ireland asked uncertainly, looking at Ireland and Scotland in confusion. Those two were having way too much fun proposing curses.

After a moment, Scotland nodded, "Fair point. Okay, no Devil then. Hmm, let's see… "May you be afflicted with the itch and have no nails to scratch with"?"

"May you fall in a nettle patch! That one would be fun for Romano!" Ireland laughed loudly.

"Or "May rain and fire, ill-wind and snow and hard frost follow you"!" Scotland snickered, liking the idea.

"Oh, I got it! Mallacht Cromail!" Ireland exclaimed excitedly.

However, Scotland looked horrified by the proposition. "Curse of Cromwell? Are you crazy? That's a fatal curse!"

"Who's Cromwell?" England asked curiously, once again feeling a flash of recognition at the mention of that name. The name felt awfully familiar to him but the feeling that followed was not a very positive one.

Ireland looked very uncomfortable, realizing the stupidity of his proposition. He replied hesitantly, "Uh, he was an English guy you sent to me in 1649. He was a cruel and vicious monster who started a very bloody genocide of my people… yeah, okay, that curse is probably a bad idea."

Wales sniffed, "Extremely bad idea if you ask me. Anyway, I still say no. No curses for Romano, he doesn't deserve that. And if you or Scotland try anything at all, I will inform Germany and you two will be in heaps of trouble."

"Tattle taler." Ireland grumbled, crossing his arms as he pouted.

"Spoilsport." Scotland muttered under his breath, looking very disappointed as well.

"What, how many times do I have to remind you two to think more rationally and to grow up? Curses are bad! Do I need to remind you what happened to Tara, Ireland? Do I?" Wales growled, looking unusually angry at both his brothers.

Canada whispered quietly to America, "I will go, this is getting too weird for me. Don't stay around too long…" The Canadian nodded at America and quietly sneaked away, opening and closing the door without any of the Celtic nations noticing. They were too busy arguing between each other, with Ireland defending himself and claiming that Tara was not his fault or something.

America looked at them and decided not to stick around for much longer. But he still had something to do… America looked at England who was beside him and asked in a very low voice, "Uh, can I talk to you England? Privately?"

England didn't respond at first, occupied with looking at his brothers argue. It took England a moment to realise that America had asked him a question and wanted an answer from him. He looked up at America and then nodded hesitantly. "Well...okay?"

With that England followed America into a different room, away from the other nations. After England entered the room, America closed the door quietly. Then he turned to face England. He walked slowly over to the little island nation and crouched to be at the same eye-level as the Brit.

"England..." America began cautiously, at loss how to ask his question. He decided to do it the blunt way, "...are you really okay?"

England blinked a few times, confused at why America would be asking him this question all of the sudden. Before he could answer, America shook his head, "I mean, are you... truly okay? Did I really scare you badly back there when I remembered your drea- I mean memory?"

The small nation shrugged helplessly, "Umm... you did scare me a lot and... err... I might have some bruises from your grip for the next few days."

America winced as he remembered how hard he had grabbed England by the shoulders. "Can I... see?"

England seemed uncertain for a moment before nodding slowly, pushing the collar of his too-big shirt to one side so that one of his shoulders was revealed to America. The American inhaled sharply when he saw the purplish bruises on England's pale skin. Had he really grabbed England that hard?

Leaning forward, America warily skimmed his fingertip over one of England's bruises. England winced and pushed America's hand away from his bruise. America drew his hand back and stared at England in shock. "I'm seriously sorry... that must have hurt like hell. Why didn't you make a sound?" America questioned hoarsely, resenting himself for having used so much force.

"I... I was scared." England admitted, looking away as he covered his bruises with his shirt again.

"Dude, if your brothers see those bruises, they'll strangle me to death!"

"Then I won't let them see my bruises." England answered firmly.

America was surprised by the conviction in England's voice and the determination present in the island nation's eyes. As if sensing America's confusion, England explained, "You... saved me and brought me back home and... you told me the truth. You told me why I was like this. I'm thankful for that."

America grinned and pulled England into a tight hug. "Aww, you're cute England."

However he quickly released England when the smaller nation gasped, "A-america, my bruises!"

Both nations were silent, staring at each other quietly. Then America sighed, "England, I really want you to know that I'm really sorry that I hurt you. I didn't mean to be so harsh, I just... flipped out."

"But... why?"

"Because I really care about you England. And I can't let anyone hurt you, even you yourself."

"You… you really care that much about me?" England asked a bit hesitantly, pointing at himself in surprise. He couldn't seem to believe that.

America nodded solemnly. "And I also want you to know that I'll always be there for you, no matter what. You're… always welcome to come stay at my house for a few days whenever you want."

The smaller nation brightened at the invitation, "I would like that very much, I had a nice time when I stayed with you. Well, except for that birthday party…"

"It's all in the past England, you don't need to bring it up." America said casually, waving his hand as if to wave the bad memory away. "And anyway, I think you should be concentrating on something else."

"And that is?" England asked curiously.

The American laughed lightly, "You should be thinking about growing up again! You know, get taller. I mean, you're really cute like that but it would be nice to have you back in your normal size." America then reached out to pull England into a comforting hug, carefully avoiding to press the bruises on the Brit's shoulders.

"Well, I can at least try…" Came England's muffled response, shifting slightly so that he could look at America directly.

America grinned, "You better, or else people will have to carry you all the time." To punctuate his statement, America stood up with England still in his arms.

"Oi, put me down again!" England protested.

"Why?" America laughed, keeping a secure hold on England.

"I don't like being carried around like a child." England grumbled with a pout.

"Why not? Is there some kind of rule that says that you should not be carried?"

England opened his mouth and then closed it again, unable to come up with an answer to America's question. Why exactly didn't England like being carried? No, it wasn't dislike… more like uncomfortable. As if England was not… used to it.

At this moment England looked so indescribably cute that America couldn't help himself and he suddenly kissed England on his forehead. England blinked and stared at America in surprise.

The American grinned sheepishly and coloured a bit in his cheeks, wondering what the hell had driven him to do this out of nowhere. Coughing self-consciously, America set England down and tried brushing it off as if it was nothing unusual. "So, I'll see you at the next World Meeting in a few days, kay?" America looked at England, hoping that England wasn't too freaked out by the American's actions.

Though England still had to fully recover from the kiss, he managed to smile and nod mutely. America grinned in response and gave England thumbs up. "Alright! See ya then!" He then turned around and walked away swiftly, hoping to God he wasn't blushing too hard. America really couldn't explain to himself why he had suddenly wanted to kiss England, he simply did it on impulse. He was feeling those strange emotions again…

America really needed to ask someone about them. A part of him deep inside knew the possible answer but the rest of America remained stubborn and sceptical. He needed to hear someone else's opinion on this, since he clearly was getting more and more confused by these feelings.

And why the hell did a part of him feel so damn smug about having managed to kiss England? It was only a kiss on the forehead! Gah, he really needed to talk with someone…

England had stayed rooted to his spot, still trying to sort out his thoughts on the event. He cautiously touched his forehead, wondering why the skin was still tingling there. Why did he feel so warm about what America had done…?

Actually what was that called? England knew there was a name for that action but the word escaped him. England frowned as he tried locating the missing word in his mind. After a moment he seemed to find it but it was literally on the tip of his tongue.

Ki…ki… KISS!

That was the word! England felt proud of himself for having found the word. Now, the next challenge: Why had America kissed him?

That question was harder to answer… England really was curious about America's reasons. And why America had then become red in the face and tried to pretend it was no big deal? England smiled a bit as he replayed the scene in his head. He had really liked the kiss, it was a nice feeling.

Apparently his heart seemed to like it too as it was beating at a quicker pace. England felt warm inside… there were strange echoes in his heart. Echoes of feelings England had long forgotten the meanings of them.

What were those feelings?

* * *

Germany sighed heavily as he made his way towards Romano's house. He really didn't want to have a confrontation with Romano (the Italian already didn't like Germany) but he couldn't see anyone else doing this. England's brothers were absolutely out of question, he knew how vengeful they could get and them confronting Romano would be like tying a cat and a dog together. Things would become extremely ugly.

But things were going to become ugly anyway. Germany knew that Romano was going to get very defensive and aggressive, and he might possibly threaten Germany as well. It was best to handle this as calmly and as privately as possible. Publicly exposing Romano would do no one any good in the long run. It might satisfy America's, England's brothers' and England's thirst for vengeance but Romano would get even more resentful and bitter towards England. There was no guarantee that the Italian would strike England again to get back at the Brit.

The German nation fully intended to break the revenge cycle before it even began. He had to ensure that the relations between the European nations remained strong and healthy, it was the only way to keep the European Union together. Revenge had to stay out, Germany had to make sure that it's influence wouldn't taint the European nations. Romano only had to apologise for his actions, that was all.

Well, Germany had yet to convince Romano to see the errors of his actions and admit them. That was going to take a while, wasn't it?

Germany was surprised to hear footsteps behind him, a few hushed whispers reaching his ears as well. Germany was being followed? But it didn't seem like he was being followed by one person, it sounded like there was more.

He stopped in his tracks, straining his ears to locate where his followers were. Abruptly the footsteps and whisperings stopped, the followers falling completely silent. Germany frowned and started walking again. The sounds behind him started up again as well.

After a few minutes of walking, Germany stopped and spun around to see who was following. There was the sound of quick scuttling to hide from the German nation's view. But his followers needn't have bothered. With all the military training that Germany had gotten from Prussia in the past, he was able to quickly spot who had been following him. They hid extremely poorly as well, hadn't anyone ever taught them to hide better instead of behind a pole or car?

"Italy, France and Spain, get out of your hiding place and show yourselves. I can see you all perfectly well, and I don't appreciate being followed after I told you all to go to your houses and work." Germany ordered authoritatively, glaring at Italy who was behind a pole and Spain and France were hiding behind a car.

The nations came out from their poor hiding places and approached Germany with their heads bent, wondering how Germany had been so sharp to notice that they were following him. Italy looked at the Germany with wide brown eyes, mumbling unconvincingly, "But this is my home. I live here."

"No Italy, you live in the opposite direction. This is Romano's house, not yours." Germany said stiffly, shaking his head. He turned his head to glare at France and Spain. "And you two have absolutely no excuse for being here. Go back to your own respective houses and mind your own business."

"But we mean no harm Allemagne." France smiled innocently, hastily adding, "We won't stand in your way, we promise. Right Espagne?" Spain swiftly nodded his head, giving Germany his best innocent smile.

Germany frowned darkly as he looked from one nation to the other. Then he looked behind him, towards Romano's house. He was only a few steps away. He really didn't want to bother with trying to chase the three nations away, he was already going to have a handful with Romano. Finally he sighed, "Stay away and out of the house. I want to talk with Romano alone, he doesn't need your interference here. It will be just me and Romano, got that? No one else."

The three nations before him nodded their heads vigorously, looking happy that Germany was not chasing them off. Germany looked at them suspiciously but finally shrugged it off, not wanting to waste any more energy than necessary. He had to deal with Romano right now.

He turned around and continued making his way towards Romano's house, hoping that Romano was not going to be as difficult to talk with as he usually was. With swift strides, he was soon in front of the door of the house. Briefly looking back, he saw that Italy, France and Spain had remained obediently in their places, all of them waving at the German nation when they noticed that Germany was looking at them.

Shaking his head again, Germany turned his attention to the door in front of him and rang the doorbell rather loudly. After a few minutes, he heard someone walking towards the door, mumbling angry words under his breath. Romano already seemed in a foul mood for the disturbance.

This was going to go really great, wasn't it?

Romano opened the door to demand what the newcomer wanted. The angry words stayed stuck in his throat as he took in who was actually standing on his doorstep. He seemed to pale slightly, he was immediately aware that it wasn't good news that Germany was at his house.

After a few tense minutes passed and neither of the nations spoke a word. Germany was looking at Romano evenly, trying to see if the Italian was going to crack soon. When he saw that Romano was going to stay stubbornly silent, Germany said calmly, "Good afternoon Romano."

"What do you want from me, potato bastard?" Romano quickly snapped, furrowing his brows at Germany suspiciously.

"Why do you think I'm here?" Germany countered, noticing Romano fidget uneasily under his hard gaze. The Italian knew very well why Germany was here, there was no denying there with the way Romano was looking at him, as if expecting a verbal attack from the German nation.

And yet, Romano quickly scowled and growled, "I have no damned idea."

"Don't play stupid with me Romano, you know that I went to England's home earlier. I know from England what you told him. I know why England ran away and you are the main cause that he fled and was afraid of us." Germany said sharply, causing the Italian to flinch at Germany's words. Nevertheless, Romano glared at Germany and stepped out of his home, closing the door behind him loudly with a bang.

He crossed his arms and defended himself, "So, you know what I said to him. Great. Now, what do you want to do about it? Punish me?"

Germany frowned but shook his head and answered, "I'm going to do absolutely nothing to you. But you're going to do something. You're going to go to England's house and apologise to England for your words. And your words of apology will be sincere and true. You better mean them."

The Italian looked at Germany incredulously, as if the German nation had just asked Romano to jump over the moon. He shook his head and put his hands on his hips. "Why should I go and apologise? I told the truth! I don't see why I should take back my words when they're all true."

"There is nothing true in saying that England is hated by everyone!" Germany exclaimed, reaching out to grab Romano by his shoulders and holding the Italian firmly in his hands. "Do you know how much energy it took me to stop America and England's brothers from going after you and avenging themselves against you? Do you have any idea how furious they are? Do you?"

"Let go of me…" Romano muttered, looking at Germany fearfully before averting his gaze to the ground. He struggled in Germany's grip, trying to put distance between him and the German nation.

"Do you?" Germany repeated his question, his patience quickly failing him.

"…No." Romano mumbled after a moment of hesitation.

"Then you will go and apologise to England, right?" Germany questioned quietly, a warning tone in his voice. "The EU does not need problems like that, the relations between the nations have to stay strong."

"All you care about is the EU, huh?" Romano sneered, looking at Germany bitterly. Germany bristled and was about to respond when a third voice joined them.

"But brother, apologising is very easy. There is nothing bad in saying sorry." Italy piped up, walking over to Germany and Romano with a slight bounce in his step. He smiled at Romano encouragingly, trying to convince his brother that apologising was good.

"What are you… Italy, I told you to stay back!" Germany hissed under his breath, dismayed that Italy had yet again disobeyed direct orders from him. But then again, somehow Germany had known that Italy might do that.

Using Germany's distracted state to his advantage, Romano pulled himself out of Germany's grasp. He then turned to look angrily at his brother and growled, "Stay out of my business Italy, I decide what I want to do or not. No one, not even you, should be telling me what to do. I do what I damn please!"

"Non, you will not this time." France said sharply, stepping out of the bushes and walking towards the two Italian nations and Germany. He was frowning disapprovingly at Romano. "You lied to us about why Angleterre had run away in the first place and you said those terrible things him."

"Which are mostly true!" Romano yelled defensively, feeling himself more and more cornered by the other nations. Why couldn't they leave him alone!

"It is still not excusable how you told Angleterre. It was vicious and unprovoked, you had no reason at all to react like that to him. What did Angleterre do to you to say those kinds of things?" France demanded, crossing his arms tightly of his chest.

"Why did you say those things to England?" Spain had also walked up to the group of nations. He looked at Romano with a mixture disbelief and sadness. He was confused and he wanted to understand why Romano had done something that was so out of character for him.

"Yes brother, why did you do that?" Italy asked quietly, looking at Romano with uncomprehending eyes.

Romano stepped back from everyone, pressing his back against the door. Germany was rubbing his temples, wondering why the concept of obeying orders appeared so difficult for Italy, France, Spain and apparently almost every single nation in the world to understand. However Italy, France and Spain were all looking at Romano intently, all waiting for his answer.

"I…" Romano bit his lip nervously, looking away from everyone. He didn't want to meet anyone's gaze. "I… it was just… England was there! That was all! I had no other reason! I was in a bad mood and England was there!"

France was the first to frown and shake his head, seeing through Romano's desperate lie. "Don't lie again Romano, I know you're not telling the truth. Tell us the REAL reason why you fed all those lies to Angleterre."

"You're never in a bad mood when you go to Spain's house to harvest his tomatoes. You love tomatoes and you love harvesting tomatoes." Italy pointed out logically, not understanding why Romano would be in a bad mood when he always looks forward to harvesting every year.

"That's true, you're always in a good mood when you come to help me with the harvest. Why were you in a bad mood this time?" Spain questioned curiously, not able to understand why this time was an exception. The only difference this year was that it was not just Spain and Romano, England was also helping along. But other than that… there was no other difference compared to the other years.

"Because England was there!" Romano blurted out angrily, immediately regretting his outburst. He quickly clapped a hand on his mouth but it was already too late, the real thorn had been revealed. The real reason of his foul mood was simply the presence of a third nation, when usually harvesting time had been always just Romano and Spain. No one else. At first, Italy, Spain and Germany didn't seem to understand Romano's reason for being moody. But Romano saw dawning comprehension on France's face and he cursed silently the French nation's presence.

France smiled widely, finally understanding Romano. The Italian sorely wished he could punch France's face in but he sadly had been given no justification yet to do so. Germany was still looking at Romano in confusion, trying to figure out Romano's words.

Germany shook his head, "I don't understand how England is the origin of your bad mood. That doesn't make sense…"

"Of course it makes sense Allemagne," France answered, smiling mischievously at Romano, "Haven't you ever heard of jalousie?"

"Eifersucht?" Germany echoed in his own language, raising an eyebrow at the French nation.

"Oui, jealousy. Our Romano here was simply… jealous, and he took his anger out on Angleterre."

"But why would Romano be jealous of Inglaterra?" Spain asked in confusion, completely oblivious to the most obvious conclusion. For the Spaniard, it was impossible to explain why in the world the Italian would be jealous of England.

Romano had by this point turned beetroot red and had become more fidgety than ever. He really wanted to yell at Spain to get a clue and finally realize what Romano felt for the Spaniard but sadly the older nation remained completely blind. France and Germany had finally seemed to understand Romano's true motive but his younger brother didn't look any wiser than before. Somehow, Romano wasn't that shocked by that.

"Brother, I don't really know why you were jealous but you have to apologise to England. Germany promised that if you apologised, he wouldn't tell everyone that it was you that made England run away." Italy said insistently, looking at Romano worriedly.

Romano frowned and sniffed, "Why should I care if the others knew?"

"So, you're fine if I publicly announce to the other nations that you made England run away and were mainly the reason why everyone spent an entire day chasing after him?" Germany demanded, as he crossed his arms and studied Romano closely.

"No!" Romano replied, too quickly.

"Then go and apologise to England now." Germany said sternly, wondering if he was going to manage to convince Romano to do the right thing. It really all depended on Romano accepting that what he did was wrong and he had to accept that England did deserve an apology. At the very least it would ensure Romano that he won't be hounded by England's brothers or America. Germany had enough problems with the economy among other things, he didn't want to have vengeful nations added to his list of current problems.

Though Romano seemed to loath accepting it, he finally nodded slowly and muttered resentfully, "Fine, so I will go and apologise to the little brat-"

"Romano!" Germany said warningly.

"… to England then, damn it!" Romano spat, crossing his arms as he glared at Germany in annoyance.

* * *

By the time Romano had travelled upwards to England's house, the Italian was feeling more and more uneasy. Not that he truly regretted his words, but he had to face England and swallow his pride to apologise to the other nation. It was something Romano almost never did, he never really had to apologise for his actions.

But with the danger of Germany telling the whole world that Romano had made England run away, the Italian had no other option but to go and say sorry to England. He really didn't want to but he also didn't want to imagine what the other nations would do to him if the whole truth ever leaked out. Having already America and England's brothers on his back was bad enough. Imagine he also had nations like Australia, New Zealand, Portugal, Japan and others angry with him as well… Romano shuddered at the thought. Though England had bad relations with quite a few nations, there were other nations where England had very good relations with.

Now Romano found himself in front of the door of England's house. He hesitated for a few minutes, trying to calm himself down and to look like this wasn't a big deal for him. The Italian gulped silently and tried to shrug his unease off.

With a slightly shaky hand, he tentatively reached out and rang the doorbell. He swiftly drew his hand back and waited for England to respond. The doorbell was almost too loud for Romano, echoing into the depths of the large house. He heard after a few seconds someone walking towards the door. The door swung open but the nation who opened the door was not the nation Romano was looking for.

Before Romano stood a red-haired teenager nation, the famous thick eyebrows showing that he was one of England's brothers. Though Romano never really bothered to keep track who was who within the UK, he could guess by this nation's age that it was probably Northern Ireland, seeing as he was the youngest of the UK.

At first, Northern Ireland didn't immediately recognize Romano and looked tempted to ask who he was. But then he seemed to remember who it was and his confused expression was quickly replaced by hostility and barely contained anger.

The Italian was hesitant for a moment, caught off guard by the intensity of this young nation's gaze. But he then shot Northern Ireland a defensive glare and said as civilly as possible, "I want to talk with England."

"Why?" Northern Ireland shot back challengingly.

"Hey North, who's at the door?" Another voice suddenly piped up. Scotland appeared beside Northern Ireland and when he saw Romano, his expression quickly darkened. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, blocking Romano's way even more.

"Oh, it's you." Scotland looked at Romano with unfriendly eyes, regarding Romano with suspicion and accusation. Romano shifted uneasily, if it was bad to be stared down by Northern Ireland, then it was ten times worse to be stared down by the Scottish nation.

"I want to talk with England." Romano repeated his request, wondering if it was simply a better idea to run away instead. By the looks of it, all of England's brothers were in the house and Romano was convinced that they all had a bone to pick with him.

"Oh? And why do you think we should let you at England again? You made quite a mess last time." Scotland scoffed, glaring at Romano unkindly. He had no sympathy reserved for the Italian.

"I just came to apologise to him, damn it!" Romano exclaimed angrily, frustrated by Scotland and Northern Ireland. Couldn't they see how much this was bothering him? He just wanted to apologise and then get the hell out of here. Romano was sure that the feeling was mutual, he definitely was not welcome here.

"Apologise to whom?" A fourth voice questioned. Romano groaned loudly, he couldn't believe his bad luck. Ireland and Wales appeared at the doorway as well, both their expressions darkening as well when they saw that it was Romano. Honestly, Romano's luck couldn't fail him anymore. He had already reached rock bottom.

At least America was not there. If he was also there, Romano was just going to turn around and run off and he was certainly not going to return! There was only so much hostility Romano could take and his tolerance was being stretched very far with now being glared at by four protective brothers. The Italian was about to repeat his question one last time when he saw England push himself through the larger nations' legs to see what was going on.

"What do you want Romano?" England questioned, looking upwards at Romano with guarded eyes. Romano looked at England for a few tense seconds, biting his lower lip in discomfort.

"Could you tell your brothers first to leave? I want to talk to you alone." Romano asked quietly, hating himself for sounding so weak. He hated admitting that he was slightly intimidated by England's brothers. Okay, maybe a bit more than slightly.

"No chance buddy, you're not going to get rid of us. Just say what you came here to say and then be off." Ireland scowled angrily at Romano. The Italian glared back at Ireland and the others, resenting their presence. It was already difficult to swallow his pride to apologise to England, but doing that in front of an audience?

"England…" Romano began awkwardly, not knowing whether to look at England directly or not. He didn't want to make eye contact but to make the apology more meaningful, he had to look at England, didn't he?

"Yes?" England replied tonelessly, watching Romano's actions closely.

"I… I…" Romano was unable to continue, he just couldn't find the words. His mind was completely blank!

"Come on, we don't have all night." Scotland snorted loudly.

Romano lost it. "Damn it, I just came here to tell you that I'm sorry! I was in a very bad mood and I got mad at you for no justified reason. I didn't mean to say those kind of things and I take them back! Happy now?"

Now extremely mortified by his outburst, Romano turned around to flee the scene. There was no way he was going to stick around any longer, he had said his apology and now he was going to get the heck out of here. He barely managed a few swift strides when he heard England call out after him.

"Romano!"

The Italian turned his head to look what England wanted from him. Wasn't an apology enough for the Brit? What else did England want from him? England was looking at him with an unreadable expression, looking as if he was considering what he was about to say.

"Thank you." England said quietly. Romano made a jerk-like movement with his head and turned around to hastily get away. He had done what he had to do, now he could go home. The other nations looked at Romano as the nation nation-hopped away, quickly disappearing into thin air.

After a few moments of silence, Scotland concluded, "I'm going to assume that we completely freaked him out. Should we feel bad?" The Scot turned to look at Ireland and Wales. Wales shrugged, looking unconcerned. Ireland seemed to think Scotland's over but then he smirked.

"Nope." Ireland replied, beginning to snigger. Scotland joined in with a light laugh and Wales started to chuckle. Soon, all three Celtic nations were laughing loudly till tears came to their eyes.

Northern Ireland and England were watching the elder nations oddly, Northern Ireland closing the door as everyone left the doorway. The Brit frowned slightly at Ireland, Scotland and Wales and murmured, "They sure get weird, don't they?"

"Don't bother trying to understand them, I gave up a long time ago." Northern Ireland sighed dramatically. "You have before you three nations who used to cry and mourn everyone's birth and laugh and celebrate everyone's death. You can't get more backwards than that."

* * *

After night had fallen, Scotland was slowly sneaking out of the bedroom after having checked that England and Northern Ireland were deeply asleep. Ireland and Wales had instructed him to come down to the living room after the two younger brothers had fallen asleep. When Scotland had asked why, Wales simply said that they had to discuss something important and he preferred that England and Northern Ireland wouldn't be present, at least not this time.

Scotland wondered silently what Ireland and Wales wanted to talk about that seemed so important that they should exclude the two younger brothers? Was it maybe about what they had been talking about earlier, when the other nations came by to check on England?

He slowly crept down the stairs, avoiding the steps that creaked a lot. (he knew them almost all by heart) Eventually Scotland reached downstairs and made his way over to the living room. Though the door was closed he could see that the light was on inside the room.

"Oi, they're asleep." Scotland said in a low voice as he opened the door and entered the room. Ireland was seated on the armchair and Wales was sitting on the sofa, both nations looking up to meet Scotland's gaze.

Wales nodded after a moment, "Good, now we can talk."

"Why so secretive though?" Scotland asked curiously as he sat beside Wales. "Why do we have to exclude England and North?"

"North doesn't need to be involved in this at all, seeing as this is about something that happened centuries before he even existed." Ireland answered stiffly, crossing his arms defensively.

Wales added, "And I do intend to include England later, but first I wanted to talk with you two about it."

"What is it then?" Scotland asked impatiently, now more curious than ever. The Welsh nation sighed and shook his head at his older brother's lack of patience.

"Did you listen to Meir- I mean, Ceanada's explanation about the ego?" Ireland questioned Scotland. The Scot nodded uncertainly, not sure where Ireland was going with this.

"Didn't you notice anything in what Canada said?" Wales asked, his tone insistent.

Scotland thought hard, trying to recall anything odd about what Canada had said. "You mean, something about England and his ego?"

Wales rolled his eyes but then nodded, encouraging Scotland to elaborate.

It finally struck Scotland what Ireland and Wales were talking about. "Oh, you're talking about why England relied so much on his ego!"

Both nations shushed Scotland, who quickly quietened. Ireland sighed, "Took you long enough deartháir but yes, that's the general idea."

"So… what are the reasons?" Scotland questioned, furrowing his brow.

Wales slapped his forehead in frustration before he hissed, "Us, you blockhead!"

"Us?" Scotland looked at his two other brothers in confusion. "Why us? I know we teased him in the past a lot but…"

"That's exactly the problem Scotland. We teased England a lot and I'm starting to wonder if we didn't do it too many times." Wales said uneasily, frowning as he tried to remember. "And when I look through my memories, I do wonder if we took our teasing too far? We didn't make his life exactly easy."

"Hey, our life wasn't any easier!" Scotland protested. "Ireland and I teased you when you were little, I was teased by Ireland when I was little and Ireland was teased…"

"By others, mainly by Inisfáil and Tuatha de Danaan." Ireland finished, adding then with a shrug, "And look, we've all had to pass through a phase of teasing and we came out alright."

Wales narrowed his eyes and shook his head, "Yes, but think back a bit more. Think about all those times we teased England. Others teased him too sometimes. And for him, he was always alone while some of us would gang on him. It was hardly ever a fair match for him."

"But you really think our teasing had such an effect on England?" Scotland questioned carefully, fidgeting uneasily.

Ireland shifted awkwardly as well and admitted, "Well, Sasana did look up to us for a while and we weren't exactly the nicest to him. But we taught him to be strong nation…"

"But that in turn also made him paranoid about his own weaknesses and he became very critical of himself." Wales countered sharply. Ireland and Scotland looked between each other, both of them seeing the unease in the other's eyes.

Scotland ventured uncertainly, "W-we did show him to never trust anyone and to never let his guard down… I… I think I once told him that he was never going to go far if he was a simple weakling..."

"Heck, we all joked how he was never going to survive the first century." Ireland said slowly, frowning at the memory. "We left him for the most time on his own and when we saw him we would either chase him, frighten him, force him to fight for his survival or we just taunted him…"

"I… almost drowned him once…" Scotland mumbled guiltily, looking down at his hands. "I often made fun of him for being small and weak."

"And when he came to me seeking some kind of comfort, company or even advice, I would just push him away." Wales shook his head. "I was the youngest of us all, I could have showed more compassion to him. Showed him some understanding. But I didn't do anything… I wasn't interested to know."

"And so Sasana turned to his own ego and started relying on it to become stronger than us… at least that's what I think Ceanada meant."

Wales looked thoughtful and nodded, "England looked up to us, wanted to be like us and to be accepted. However we kept doubting him and mocking him, never once did we consider him as an equal. So England turned to his ego and got stronger to prove to us and the others of what he was capable of and eventually… he became even stronger than us. Strong to the point that he pulled us all into his empire and forced us to watch just how strong he had become."

"So it's our fault that England became like that, huh?" Scotland sighed, running a tired hand through his red hair.

"Not entirely, but we contributed a lot to what England became." Wales corrected wearily.

Suddenly Ireland sat up, looking alarmed. "Oh crap, does that mean Sasana will remember those memories too?"

Both Scotland and Wales looked at Ireland in horror. Scotland gulped, "That's… really not good… how will England react to them?"

"We should consider making England aware of how we acted towards him in the past. And how this no longer applies to how we think about him now. If we don't do that, we run in the risk of regenerating his distrust in us." Wales looked worried as he crossed his arms together. How in the world had they overlooked this important detail? If England remembered without them saying anything to him, the Brit was bound to react negatively to those memories and would be hurt all over again.

"We better warn him then…" Scotland began to say when a creaking outside the room silenced him. All three brothers looked up and at the door, wondering who was on the other side.

The door was pushed open slowly and England appeared from behind it. He looked at the three other nations curiously and asked quietly, "Warn me of what?"

There was a long silence. Scotland grew uncomfortable with the lack of noise and wanting to lighten the atmosphere, grinned sheepishly and questioned, "Hey England… I thought you were asleep. How come you're still awake?"

England looked at Scotland contemplatively, his green eyes slightly narrowed as if he was trying to guess what his older brothers had been up to. "I woke up and I heard talking… so I went down to see what you were talking about. What were you actually talking about?"

Ireland and Wales looked at each other, Ireland attempting to pass the message "Let's tell him now" to Wales. The Welsh nation shortly considered it and saw that it was the best course of action.

"Well England," Wales began, turning his attention to the Brit, "we were discussing about something that happened a long time ago between you and us. Have you gotten any memories from that period?"

England looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head. Wales and the others let out a sigh of relief, at least England hadn't gotten any of these uncomfortable memories without any forewarning.

"Alright England, so I will have to warn you about these memories. They're not really nice…" Wales trailed off, wondering how he should express the issue, "The thing is… when we were younger, we liked to tease you. A lot."

The smaller nation cocked his head to one side curiously, taking in what Wales had said. "Teasing me? Well, Hong Kong teased me a lot when I stay over at China's house. It was pretty annoying."

Scotland coughed awkwardly, "England, Hong Kong's teasing would actually be considered tame compared to our "version" of teasing. Our teasing was a lot worse."

"A lot worse?" England looked from brother to brother in confusion, coming closer to them till he stood in front of Wales and Scotland. "How?"

"It was… just really bad." Ireland answered wearily, causing England to turn around and look at the Irish nation. "Those memories are bound to come back so I don't think we should really tell. Just know that they're not good."

Wales stood up and kneeled beside England, so that he was staring England straight in the eyes. He added, "And keep this in mind when those memories return to you. Whatever was said or done to you from us back then, no longer applies to how we think of you today. Times have changed and… so have we."

England blinked slowly as he regarded Wales, his eyes mildly questioning. "But if the teasing was so bad… why did you do it?"

"If only that was simple to answer." Wales sighed, looking guilty.

"Fact is, there is no reason to justify it." Scotland shrugged helplessly.

"We were immature." Ireland admitted simply.

England became thoughtful, musing quietly, "So I guess I'll have to wait for my memories to come back to see what you are talking about."

Wales nodded, hoping England would pull through when these memories started resurfacing. Some of them were quite traumatic to the younger England and he hoped that the current England wouldn't suffer too much when re-experiencing them. From the corner of his eye, Wales saw England bite back a yawn. Seemed like someone needed to go back to bed. Now that he mentioned it, Wales felt pretty tired too.

"Well, I think its best we go and sleep now, it is quite late." Wales proposed, stretching his arms as he stood up.

Scotland mumbled a sleepy agreement and then picked England up. The Brit was about to protest and demand to be released when he stopped himself. Why throw a tantrum about it? Still, England was curious about one thing…

He turned to look at the Scot, "Scotland, why do you and others like carrying me so much?"

His brother seemed surprised by the question but then replied, "Dunno about the others but I… don't really know why either. Guess I'm trying to catch up with the times where I didn't pick you up." The last line carried a sadder tone with it and England was surprised to see sorrow and remorse appear in Scotland's eyes.

What had caused this sudden turn of emotions? Scotland suddenly looked so uncharacteristically unhappy. Ireland walked up to the Scot and smiled sympathetically, patting his shoulder.

"Alba, you didn't know better. Neither did I. None of us did."

Scotland nodded slowly and attempted to smile it off. He looked at England, "Alright, let's go back to your room, 'kay?"

"Good night you two." Wales nodded at Scotland and England, he and Ireland going to the guest room.

"Oíche maith." Ireland said quietly before walking after Wales.

Scotland carried England to his room where Northern Ireland was still fast asleep in the bed. The Scot carefully nudged the younger nation to the side to slip in and England took the spot between both nations.

England was looking at Scotland, still worried by the Scot's behaviour earlier. Scotland sensed England's stare and quietly whispered, "Hope I didn't freak you out there England, sometimes I get all weird and gloomy when I think back to those days long past. Things I cherished and things I regret."

"I guess I was worse." England countered. Scotland stifled a chuckle and took a few moments to calm himself down.

Then he replied, "Yeah, you were pretty bad too. But I guess that's what you call nostalgia."

They were silent for a moment before Scotland whispered, "You know, I read somewhere you grow the most when you're asleep."

England blinked in surprise before he smiled knowingly, "Are you also implying that I should start "growing up"?"

"Me? Nah…" Scotland denied, trying to sound innocent. Then he added with an amused tone. "Now go to sleep."

England stared at the ceiling of his bedroom for a few more minutes before he shut his eyes and drifted off.

* * *

_Soon enough England found himself in the familiar darkness of his mind. However England was no longer surprised, he knew he was going to relive a memory soon. Or maybe many memories._

_What his brothers had been ignorant about was that England had been present to their conversation from the very beginning. England had been suspicious about Scotland's insistence that he and Northern Ireland should be falling asleep when the Scot himself seemed up to something else._

_So England had merely pretended to fall asleep until Scotland was convinced and left the bedroom. England followed him shortly after and thanks to his memories, was able to make his way down the stairs without a sound and stayed outside the room, listening to his brothers._

_Then he deliberately made some noise to warn his brothers that someone was approaching and then entered the room, pretending he hadn't caught anything of the conversation. _

_Why so sneaky about it? Well, England actually wanted to test his brothers. He wanted to see if they were going to be honest and tell England what they had been discussing about. England was at the very least pleased that his brothers had been willing to reveal what they had been talking about… but they seemed unwilling to talk about these memories._

_Were they so bad?_

_With that question in mind, England had actually hoped to land in this dark place because he always ended up reliving a memory here. Now the problem was whether he was going to see the memories from that time period or from a completely different period._

_After walking around a bit, looking for any hints of a memory hole opening, England felt one open up next to him. _

_He glanced at it warily, wondering what memory he was going to see. Taking a deep breath, England jumped into the hole and closed his eyes until he felt his feet touch the ground. _

_When he opened his eyes, England saw before him a large open field with a dense forest keeping the horizon out of view. There were many rocks jutting out of the earth, giving the landscape a feral appearance. England wondered in what time period he had landed. The one thing that he was clear about was that he was far from civilization. Very far._

_He suddenly heard footsteps of someone who was running behind him. England turned around and barely dodged the person who seemed to be fleeing. The person stumbled but regained their balance, whirling around to face their pursuers._

_The person was wearing a dark green cloak that had several rips in it. England stared at the person in curiosity, their face covered by the hood of the cloak. The person was breathing raggedly, trying to regain their breath._

_Finally, they straightened up and pushed the hood back._

_The person who stood in front of him was England._

_England blinked in surprise as he regarded his past self when he was very young. The England before him was looking fearful and wild, and was slightly smaller than the current England. He was staring past England, awaiting the arrival of those who had chased him. The current Brit went into the familiar phase of being pulled into his older self, becoming one in mind with the other England and seeing the memory through the same eyes. _

_England's heart was beating wildly and the small avatar was still panicking. They had been behind him just a moment ago. Where were they now?_

_Suddenly, something hit England hard in the back of his head. England cried out in pain and in alarm and quickly turned around to see what had hit him. _

_On the ground lay a stone. England felt the back of his head carefully and felt something wet and sticky on his fingers. Great, he was bleeding._

"_Hey runt, is that really all the best you've got?" A mean voice jeered out._

_England looked up and saw three avatars on the rocks, not too far away from the Brit. Internally, the current England immediately recognized them as younger versions of Scotland, Ireland and Wales. However the older England was only feeling confusion, pain and fear. Was that the first time England met his brothers?_

"_I think you've knocked him mute Alba. He's not saying anything." The smallest of the trio said quietly, cocking his head to one side to regard England with mild interest._

"_Not likely!" The dark red-haired avatar scoffed. _

_The tallest avatar shook his head disdainfully, "It's horrible, those little buggers seem to become smaller and weaker with every year. What is up with them?"_

_England had remained silent thus far, incredibly intimidated by the older avatars in front of him. His instinct was screeching at him to run. It was a well-known rule that older avatars would not hold back to kill the younger ones for the sake of securing a larger territory._

_And in front of him stood three older avatars and there was no doubt that they could kill him within the blink of the eye, if England made the wrong move. Perhaps England could somehow pacify them and they would consider letting him get out of this situation alive. It was already unusual for older avatars to team up together, it was also known that avatars were solitary creatures and rarely tolerated the presence of another avatar in close proximity. _

_The three avatars had fallen silent, observing the smaller avatar with critical eyes. England nervously looked from one avatar to the other. He was surprised to notice that they all had very thick eyebrows. Just like him…_

"_A-are you m-my…brothers?" England asked hesitantly, his voice trembling with fear. _

_The other avatars stared at England and then between each other in disbelief before all three burst out laughing. England recoiled at the laughter, it sounded mocking and condescending. The smaller of the three picked up a stone and threw it towards England._

_The rock flew quickly and England had no time to avoid it. The rock struck the Brit on the forehead, causing the smaller avatar to cry out and to take a few staggering steps back._

"_If you were truly our brother, you would have been able to avoid that." The youngest of the three said with a smirk. _

_The two older avatars were laughing even harder than before, the avatar named Alba slapping the younger on his shoulder approvingly, "Good one Cymru, good one!"_

_Still sniggering, Alba pulled out a large axe from his belt and wielded it as if it was as light as a feather. "Come on, Éire and Cymru, let's see how much fight this little one has in him."_

_The laughter quickly died down and both aforementioned nations turned to stare at Alba in disbelief. Éire turned to study England and then he scoffed, "Are you serious Alba? Look at the runt, he's completely unarmed."_

"_Not even a spear on him." Cymru sniffed disdainfully, looking at England disapprovingly. "The boy wouldn't last three seconds against us. What a waste of time…"_

"_It's like killing a fangless wolf. Let's go, there's nothing to be gained by killing him." Éire turned around and started walking off. Cymru followed and shortly after, Alba shrugged and went to follow the two other avatars._

_England stared after them, shocked that he was able to get out of this alive and a little bit stung by the other avatars' words. He wasn't that weak, even though he didn't have a weapon. He wanted to prove to these three avatars that he wasn't completely hopeless._

"_Hey, if I can show you that I can become strong too like you, would you let me be your brother?" England called out after the retreating forms, not wanting to be left on his own. After seeing this trio, it proved to England that avatars were able to coexist peacefully and the Brit didn't want to be lonely._

_The reply he got to his question was another stone flung at him, striking him on the shoulder. England gasped in pain and held his shoulder, wincing a bit. That had been quite a big stone and his shoulder ached._

"_At least learn to dodge stones weakling, or you won't survive for long." One of the avatars called back loudly, the three starting to laugh again as they disappeared into the dense forest._

* * *

_The scene changed, alerting England that he was going to relive another memory. He shuddered a bit at what he had seen, his brothers had been right. Their form of teasing was worse than Hong Kong's, it certainly was a lot more painful. Physically and psychologically. England wondered silently if other nations had been subjected to that kind of harsh treatment as well. Somehow, the Brit found himself doubting… _

_England could now understand why they weren't comfortable with telling the memories themselves, he himself wouldn't be at ease if he were in their situation. At the very least they seemed to regret what they did. One thing that still worried England was what Scotland had mentioned. He had mentioned… that he had almost drowned England. The island nation hoped with all his heart that he wouldn't have to see this memory anytime soon, it was one he would rather miss or lose rather than relive._

_The island nation turned his attention back to the changing scenery. The only great change was that he was amongst shrubbery on a windy hillside. The sky was an ominous grey, as if it was going to rain. England started looking around, wondering where his past self was. How big was the gap of time between this memory and the previous one? _

_Suddenly he heard some rustling among the shrubs beside England. The nation turned around and crouched low to see who was hiding. He quickly spotted the past England, or more correctly, the past Albion. The small avatar was hiding among the bushes, almost giving the impression of being hunted prey. _

_Upon seeing his past self, England noticed a few changes to him. He had grown, but only slightly. He was carrying a bow and some arrows on his back. In his hand he was holding a sword tightly._

_England closed his eyes and allowed himself to be absorbed into his past self again._

_The little avatar was breathing slowly and deeply, avoiding making any kind of sound that might give his position away. He started walking slowly, surefooted and nimbly. He constantly kept a wary eye out for danger._

_The other avatar was around here somewhere, Albion could practically feel the tingle at the base of his spine. But where was he?_

_Out of nowhere, Albion heard running footsteps and then a jump. Albion quickly turned around and saw the red-haired avatar in the sky and descending towards him quickly, his great axe out and over his head._

_Alba let out a loud battle cry when he landed and he immediately attacked England. The smaller avatar quickly jumped into action and blocked the axe with his sword. Both weapons clashed together noisily. _

_The older avatar jumped back and then with great velocity, launched himself at Albion again. Both avatars went through a series of different attacks, Alba always on the offensive and trying to break through Albion's shield of defence. _

_However, Albion was able to sidestep the attacks or block them with his sword. He was not going to show any weakness at all, he could prove to Alba that he was a capable warrior!_

_Unfortunately Albion was being continually forced to step back due to Alba's constant attacks and he noticed that he was going to trip over a bush behind him before long. _

_Albion took a deep breath and lunged forward, barely missing the descending axe and managed to roll past Alba. Albion quickly struggled to his feet, clasping his sword tightly in his hands, wondering if he now had a chance to attack Alba._

_Sadly Alba had whirled around and was already towering over Albion, his axe descending towards the smaller avatar again. Albion barely managed to lift his own sword up in a desperate attempt to block the axe when both weapon clanged together loudly again._

_They stood there in silence, both panting for air. Albion's hands were trembling with the effort of holding both his sword and the axe over his head. After a moment, Alba smirked and stood back, lowering the axe to the ground so that he could lean against it._

"_Hmm, not bad… you've got some nice blocking skills there." Alba commented lightly, as if the fight hadn't been serious at all. He was treating it as if it had been a simple sparring match with blunt swords. Not a fierce fight with a very sharp sword and an even sharper axe._

_Alba crouched and stared at Albion curiously, scratching his chin as he studied the younger avatar. "Hey, I've seen you before, right? You're that little blondie runt… do you even have a name?"_

_Albion had mostly recovered his breath and managed to utter, "T-the faes called me… Albion."_

"_What? The faes named you? After the original mother of these lands? " Alba scoffed loudly, staring at Albion in disbelief. "Seriously, you don't have your own people or language?"_

_The elder avatar started laughing when Albion shook his head reluctantly. _

"_Come on, you're a avatar! It's your duty to represent your people and to exist as long as they exist. Without your own people, your existence has no purpose."_

"_I'll get my own people soon, I swear." Albion insisted indignantly, wanting to prove to Alba that he had a purpose. _

_Alba chuckled and shook his head. "You don't "get" your own people, you will become theirs if you're worthy of being their representation. Well, seeing as you managed to survive this far and have picked up a few fighting skills, you might make it…"_

_Albion was glad to hear the praises, he had trained hard with his sword in case he had to fight another avatar to survive. Having Alba praise his skills was so satisfying._

_All of a sudden there was a sudden whoosh of air and the flat side of the axe was brought down hard on Albion's head. The smaller avatar yelped as the pain exploded in his head, falling to ground while holding his head tightly. He whimpered loudly._

"_Psh, that can't have hurt too bad. Stop the whining already. You deserved it, you let your guard down." Alba scolded, straightening up with his axe over his shoulder._

"_But that really hurt!" Albion cried tearfully, willing his ears to stop ringing. The axe was really heavy, that hurt like hell!_

"_Don't be such a weakling Albo… Albi… Albino or whatever you're called. If you can't handle this pain, then how are you supposed to become a strong avatar? This kind of pain is nothing compared to others!" Alba exclaimed, staring down at Albion disapprovingly. _

_Albion bit his bottom lip, trying to quell down his tears and sobs of pain. He wanted to be a strong avatar, he really wanted to be! He had to prove to Alba and the others that he wasn't a weakling! The smaller avatar slowly struggled to his feet, standing up a bit shakily due to the pain in his head. He stared at Alba with determined eyes, trying his best to step his eyes from watering._

_Alba grinned and then started walking away from the smaller avatar. Before he disappeared in the shrubbery, he turned his head around and said, "See ye around then. Or maybe not, who knows! Good luck with surviving!"_

_Albion watched the avatar walk away, frowning darkly at Alba's words. Was Alba so convinced that Albion wasn't going to make it? Did he think that Albion was just another unbound avatar that was going to disappear with time, vanish entirely from history without having an effect on the land at all? Oh no, Alba was definitely going to see Albion again, that much the young avatar vowed to himself. He was going to survive. He was going to become a bound avatar. He was going to prove to Alba and to the others that he could be just like them, strong and fearless. _

_**Well, firstly I must get better at fighting. If I don't do that I might just as well accept that I'm a weakling.**_

_**And I'm no weakling.**_

_**I'll show them!**_

* * *

**A/N**

*whew* Yeah, that was a very long chapter. It beat the record of the chapter... 31 I think? Even when I promised that I was never going to write such a long chapter ever again... and then I go and write an even longer chapter. X_x I must have some reverse psychology in my head, everything I say to myself, I often find myself doing the opposite. Honestly, what's wrong with me?

Okay, now to tackle the first theme. *drum roll* The dark voice inside England's head has always been the... ego! Now, before I get any whining about how boring or uncool it is, consider this: This is not Freud's ego, on the contrary even. The ego is something that lies within our minds and sounds like our thoughts, but it means us no good. The high and low ego is my own theory over the ego's nature. Since I've been bullied in quite a few schools, I stopped interacting with the outside world and went inside myself, where I relied on my imagination to keep me sane. Not only did that strengthen my own imagination, but it made me aware of what kind of person I am. The different shades of me that exist. And I became aware of a voice who sounded like me but carried a darker undertone. For many years I remained clueless of what it was, but I called it also "dark voice". One day I told my mother that my dark voice disturbed me and there she said, "Ah, that's the ego." The ego... it is a difficullt thing to explain but everyone has it. There are many different theories about it but I generally beleive that our ego is something bad. When we look in the mirror and hear a small voice sneer "You're fat" or "You're bony" or "You look so weak", who do you think is speaking? Our ego. When we're doing something new and we're really afraid about it because we think we will never succeed, who do you think told you that as well? When a girl says that no boy would want her because of her ugliness, the ego is behind that assumption. When a boy thinks that he must be strong and show no weakness because showing a weakness meant that he wasn't a real man, it's the ego once again. But there are two different phases of the ego: the high and the low. The high ego is better known as it is tied with people who are egoistical. They think they are the best of the world and everyone has to accept that. Prussia fits the best in this description, though America, British Empire and others easily fall into the category. When in high ego, you feel the need to put everyone around you down so that you feel better. For that one Christmas bloodbath thing where Prussia was alone and saw all aroud him the couples, we all saw that he seemed quite lonely. But he said "I don't need anyone, I'm too awesome. Clustering is for the weak." See? Prussia bashes the others so that he can feel better over the fact that he is alone. The low ego is completely different, in the sense that you feel the need to make yourself completely worthless among people. I pick here me as an example, since I suffer a lot at the hands of the low ego. Everytime I have a new chapter ready to upload, a voice in my head is constantly sneering, "Will the readers like this chapter? Or will they think it is shitty and they will stop reading the story? Maybe they're getting sick of your story. Your story is not that good, there are others who write ten times better. Why bother uploading the rubbish you write?" That's only a part of the verbal abuse I get. It goes on and on and it gets louder when I'm preparing to upload the new chapter. I literally have to count to 5 to upload the chapter or else I am unable to click the mouse. We all are influenced by the ego, both the high and the low, but that doesn't mean we have to start pushing the blame on the ego when you do something wrong. Our responabilites is to NOT listen to our egos. If you have a question about the ego, you may ask me about it. I have enough years of experience with my own ego and I've become really good at recognizing situations where someone is being influenced by their low or high ego. If you would like more examples, I'm more than willing to help out. Most people find the whole ego thing strange, but in my opinion, the ego is as real as it gets.

Alright, starting onto something else. Sorry if some of you expected something "more" from Romano's punishment, but I really don't think vengeance or public humiliation would actually help anyone at all. I tried handling it as realistically as possible and I also tried to find a balance where the fans of Romano don't feel I was too harsh on him and the other fans were not given the impression that Romano got away with it. It wasn't easy but I hope I managed to pull it off well enough. ^^ Yes?

The curses that Ireland and Scotland mentioned are real, ancient curses from Irlenad, though in my lifetime I've only heard the curse "May the Devil swallow you sideways." being said out loud in an argument. (curse aren't all that popular anymore) But I have an awesome book that hada few Irish curses and some of them are actually quite harsh. There was one funny one, "The death of kittens on you." There are a few other note-worthy ones but I felt that they were a bit too harsh or fatal for Romano:  
"May the snails devour your corpse and the rain rot it."  
"May the seven terriers of hell sit on your breast and bark at your soul."  
"May yourself go stone-blind so that you will not know your wife from a haystack."  
"I wish you to be tormented with twenty-one demons each tearing you apart."  
"May the child within you forever be unborn."  
"May six horse-loads of graveyard clay fall on top of you."  
For those who are curious about what Wales was referring to when he reminded Ireland of Tara, Tara used to be the political and spiritual capital of Ireland, and it acted as the seat of the kings of Ireland. The place actually existed, although today practically nothing remains of it to show that it existed. The place is nowadays known as the Hill of Tara. According to a legend, an Irish saint named Ruadhan took part in a cursing match with the kings of Tara and by the end of their match, the land was throughly cursed, ruined and deserted. At least that's what the legend claims.

Oh yeah, some of you were interested when I started questioning the ages of our Celtic nations and asked me to update my findings when I could. Well, I have finally the historically accurate age order of the Celtic nation and England is thrown into the bunch for good measure. The order goes from the oldest to the youngest:  
**Ireland (300-600 BC)**: I was right all along, Ireland is really the oldest of the brothers. There is no date where he was officialy founded but I am assuming that since he's a Celtic nation, he would have been logically born when the first Celts arrived. That is estimated at around 300-600 BC but some historians wonder if it might have been even earlier than that. Fact is, Ireland is historically the eldest.  
**Scotland (2nd-4th AD**): Even though the founding of Scotland's kingdom actually is dated at around 900 AD, I didn't really like that because that made him younger than England and Wales. So I looked for a way to still make Scotland the second oldest because he does have the older brother vibe. I finally came to the conclusion, since Scotland is also a Celtic nation, it made sense to have him born around the time the first Celts came to Scotland. These Celts settled in Scotland and founded Dál Riata so all I needed to know was when Dál Riata was founded. Guess what? THERE IS NO DATE! AGAIN! The origins of this Irish colony is extremely murky, but most historians agree that it might have been around the 2nd to 4th century AD . But we will never truly know. At least this date saved Scotland and preserved his place as the second oldest. ^^  
**Wales (end 4th-early 5th AD**): In comparison to Ireland or Scotland, Wales' age was actually pretty easy to find. Many historians agree that among the Britons, the Welsh identity started arising shortly after the departure of the Romans, not any earlier than that. Of course Wales had quite a large kindom back then, stretching almost across the entire island, even as far as what is today southern Scotland. The Welsh were extremely angry when they were driven by the Saxons into the tiny corners of the island, where they have stayed until today. But here comes my next problem.  
**Engand ( 800 AD? earlier?)**: England is also a right pain as opposed to Wales. Can we consider England as a Saxon nation? He is a literal melting pot, because it wasn't only the Saxons that came. Along with the Saxons came also the Angles, the Jutes and the Frisians. According to many sites, the first Saxons came to Britain in 450 AD. According to some books I have (recent books if I may add) say the Saxons came around 5th-6th century AD. According to Wikipedia it's early 5th century AD. According to my father, he thinks the Saxons may have come the moment the Romans left, making that shortly after 410 AD. Conclusion: no one can frickin agree. But in most sources, the historians agree that all the Germanics unified together to make up Englaland (old name of England) in the 800s AD to better fight against the Vikings. I'll look more into it but for now I say that England was born around 800 AD.  
**Northern Ireland (3rd May 1921)**: The ONLY one of this dysfunctional family who has a nice, simple date. *exhales loudly* Thank you North for being easier than anyone else, there is absolute no contest that you're the youngest. There, I don't need to spend hours to roughly estimate your age.

I would like to say more to this chapter but these author notes are too long already so I will address the other things later on because they will apear later on. Of course, if you have any questions on this chapter, feel free to ask me. I'm open to answering them. ^^ Now I should go and sleep, I'm a little bit sleep-deprived. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! :D


	34. Chapter 34

Ah, back with a new chapter! ^^ Sorry for the wait, RL struck me really badly last week. I'm still trying to heal, but thank goodness the nightmare is over. About two years ago, I got metal splints put behind my upper and lower incisors and canine teeth and a sort of glue substance was used to keep the metal splints there. Several months ago, I bit into a very hard sweet (ironically called "Jawbreaker") and it broke a part of the glue substance. But the metal splint stayed intact. So I had a piece of the glue substance that would move up and down but it wouldn't break off. What happens? I eat an apple, a bit of the apple gets stuck between the glue and the tooth and while I thought I removed most of it, it appears that a part stayed. And since then, one of my upper front tooth has been decaying thanks to that and only recently did a dark spot start to appear within the front tooth. I go to the dentist, they take an X-ray... BANG! A huge caries. They say they will remove on (last) Thursday, saying it doesn't seem like it reached the nerves. They removed the glue and metal splint on Thursday and they're met with a very decayed tooth. So decayed that not only is the enamel gone, but the dentin and the pulp! Only the visible part of my front tooth was actually tooth, the rest was gone. So they spent 4 hours on Thursday and 4 hours on Friday saving the tooth (they had to destroy the nerve) and then built a new one to support what was left. (so I now have a sort of cyborg tooth if we want to be humourous) Let me tell you, that was an absolute nightmare. The first day felt like I had walked through Hell 3 times and the second day I felt like I was stuck in Purgatory. Not fun, and I still can't eat normally, everything is too hard for me. So, a message to all those who don't like the dentist, who don't like brushing their teeth and those who don't bother with flossing: DO IT! Go to the dentist, brush your teeth and please floss them. I wish no one to have the pain I suffered. I paid a big price after all, especially for A. not having the courage of saying that the glue had broken and that food had been stuck behind my tooth. and B. for being negligent of teeth hygiene and C. for never taking the time to go to the dentist. No one deserves the kind of pain I suffered, even my dentist said I was very brave because most people would have opted to simply have the tooth removed. (but I didn't feel brave, I almost kicked an assistant twice and felt sorely tempted a dozen of times to bite fingers off. X_x Thankfully the worst thing I did was jerk my head and kick the chair)

Alrighty, on to the story! (Oh yeah, totally check out the movies "The Quiet Man" and "Children of a Lesser God" on youtube when you have time, they're awesome and worth the time! They're oldies but they're beautifully made.)

* * *

Chapter 34

England decided that today, he was going to explore his own home, becoming more reacquainted with it. He might possibly regain another memory by looking through the things that were his but that he no longer remembered. At least he hoped he would get some memories back like that, it made sense to him. But when had his memories ever come to him in a logical way? They didn't even come in a chronological order!

When England had woken up earlier, he found that the house was eerily silent. Too quiet. The reason for that became quickly obvious, the house was empty. England was the only one left in the house. The Brit found a note on his bedside table, written by Wales, that explained that Ireland, Northern Ireland and Scotland had returned to their respective homes to deal with some paperwork from their governments and Wales had gone to work as well, but promised that he would be back somewhere around noon.

What in the world did "noon" mean? An abbreviation of afternoon maybe? Well, if that was the case, England had a few hours to kill, exploring the various rooms of the house of the past England. The Brit had to admit, his past self sure owned a lot of things. Many objects which England didn't really recognize. He was taken aback by the amount of books that he found in one room… was there a particular name for a room that had many books? He didn't remember the name yet.

But one thing that was clear was that his past self really liked books. Unfortunately the shelves were a bit too high for England, so he couldn't reach for the books. Upon inspecting the room more closely, England was surprised to find a lone book tucked away under an armchair. The island nation frowned slightly, trying to see what kind of book it could be. It certainly seemed to have been in its place for a long time, judging by the amount of dust on the book.

Intrigued, England reached out for the medium-sized burgundy book and pulled it out from its hiding place. The Brit wondered why in the world his past self would pick such a strange place to hide a book. England sneezed at the amount of dust on the book, and wiped the rest off. Whatever the title had been on the book cover was now almost unreadable, having been viciously scratched away. All England could faintly make out from the once-intiricate lettering was an "A"and a "b", but nothing else was visible.

Why would the old England hide this book? It could have also landed there by mistake but somehow England had the feeling that his past self had put the book there purposefully. As if he wanted to hide it from someone… not being able to keep back his curiousity, the Brit opened the book to the first page to see what it was about.

That was when it quickly became clear that this was not a book. On the very first page, England saw a picture… no, not a picture. The Brit thought hard, trying to remember the name for those kind of pictures… he had seen one before, even recently. It was a… ah yes, a photograph! And a very old one at that, it was in black and white. So this was not a book, but an album! He looked more closely at the photo and he quickly recognized his older self and another person standing up and looking directly at him. Wait… the other person looked like Canada in his younger teens.

Canada was looking in the direction of the camera, seeming curious and confused by it at the same time. It looked like the concept of having a photograph taken of yourself was not familiar to the colony back then, so England assumed that this may have been the first time Canada was photographed. The past England however didn't show any signs whether this was his first time too or not. He was looking into the camera with an unreadable expression, he wasn't scowling but there wasn't any happiness in his eyes. The eyes simply looked hard, unfeeling.

Curiously enough, England saw that there was a note tucked behind the photo, just a tiny corner of the paper peeking out. The Brit grasped the yellowing paper and pulled it out carefully, not wanting to break it. He opened the note slowly and read the contents of it.

"_I've heard of how popular it has become to have a photo portrait taken of yourself and your family, rather than engaging an expensive painter to paint a portrait. I must agree that the likeness is more accurate in a photograph than in a painting. Canada previously showed some reservation towards the camera, uncertain of the possible consequences of having this strange device take a picture of us. I myself was a little hesitant at first but I decided that there was no harm in trying it out. Some people say that photographs are the way of making memories… I know that soon Canada will reach adulthood and… I wanted something tangible to remind myself that Canada also used to be young once..._

_Photographs may not be such a bad idea after all." _

England stared at the elegant writing mutely, letting the word of the past England sink in. It was strange to read what his past self had once written. It sounded like the past England put a lot of emphasis on preserving memories. At the top and bottom of the note, there was also some writing but it was blotched, as if water had fallen onto the paper. At the bottom of the paper he could faintly make out the signature: _The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. _At the top of the page, the ink was completely unreadable but England guessed that it may have been the date once.

England pondered for a moment, trying to remember who this United Kingdom was… oh, wasn't that him? Yes, he had seen the name before on the map and France had explained that that was his official name… But hadn't France said his name was "United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland"? His past self seemed to have forgotten to add the "Northern" to his name. Or was this correct and France had made a mistake?

Turning the page over, he was met with a couple of other black and white photos. One of them in particular caught his eye. England looked closer and realized that it was a photo of him and his older brothers. Wales and England were both sitting on chairs while Ireland and Scotland were behind them. The island nation winced a bit at the expressions on the photograph, they definitely weren't harmonious.

The past England seemed to be the only one smiling in the picture, and on top of that it was that type of smug and satisfied smile that irritated everyone. Everyone in the photo was wearing a suit, a fact that seemed to have put Ireland into a very bad mood. He wasn't really paying attention to the camera, the Irish nation was scowling as he tried to loosen his necktie. Wales didn't look anymore pleased and England felt bad when he burst out laughing. His source of discomfort was even more obvious than Ireland's.

The modern Wales had fairly long hair for a guy, the tips of the hair reaching his shoulders. However in this photo, the hair had been cut very short. Wales looked acutely uncomfortable with his hair so short and his expression underlined his wish to be swallowed up by the earth and disappear. While it was amusing, England also felt a pang of guilt as there was no doubt that Wales had had his hair cut unwillingly.

Scotland, of course, found another way of expressing his dislike. He was staring directly at the camera and sticking his tongue out at it. It looked childish but England couldn't help but laugh lightly. Oh dear, that photo realy showed how much of a dysfunctional family they were…

Spying another note hiding behind the photograph, England pulled the piece of paper out and opened it carefully. He recognized his own handwriting again and read it:

"_And yet another photograph ruined by Scotland's antics. Typical. Ireland still wasn't looking at the camera despite my instructions, I told him to stop fiddling with his necktie! But it was the best photograph of the lot. Who knows if I will ever manage to get my three brothers into suits and give Wales a decent haircut again? They were difficult enough this time around and I fear they will try to get back at me for having imposed this "formality" on them. They are still barbarians at heart, the whole lot of them! But I am satisfied that I succeeded, any lesser man would have given up trying to get all three of them unto a photo. Now if only Wales would stop giving me that kicked puppy face… if he continues, I'll start feeling guilty for actually making him have a decent hairstyle." _

England snorted quietly, wondering how his past self seemed so oblivious to the discomfort of his brothers. Perhaps he was aware and did it deliberately… the island nation shook his head as he turned the next page of photos.

As he looked through the photos, England realized that the old England had taken the whole "preserving memories" seriously. The album was full of photos and it had many photos of people that England didn't recognize, though he was sure the past England wanted to keep them in memory. He found quite a few photos of England with Japan and there was also some more of Canada and Hong Kong. But nations such as America, France, Spain and others seemed absent from the album. There were also photos of darker-skinned nations, though none were readily familiar to England. (though he was starting to suspect that they may have been some of England's more obscure colonies) There was one photo of a young Asian-looking girl beside England who seemed to be rolling her eyes in exasperation.

England even found a group photo where the old England was sitting in the middle of a couch and on one side there sat three dark-skinned girls of varying ages while on his other side were two dark-skinned boys. It seemed like there was a strategic reason for England to be sitting in the middle, splitting the girls and the boys from each other. The eldest girl and the eldest boy from the group were glaring at each other angrily while the old England was holding their wrists, a silent attempt to stop from the two children from jumping at each other's throats while the photo was being taken. England recognized the eldest girl from a memory he had a few nights ago, she was the girl with the red spot on her forehead. So… who was the boy that she seemed to hate so much?

The island nation continued looking through the album, noticing the gradual improvement of the black and white photos in terms of quality. He was surprised when he abruptly came to the last black and white photo, the others beside it being faintly coloured.

_Sort of marking the end of an era of black and white photos._ England thought silently. Looking at the last black and white photo, England saw that it was a photo of him and Northern Ireland when the young Irish nation had been but a young boy. What was so unusual about this photo was that both England and Northern Ireland were laughing about something.

Yes, after all those photos where the past England hardly ever betrayed an emotion, here he was laughing! The old England was sitting in an armchair and Northern Ireland was sitting on his laps and they were both laughing. Not the awkward kind of laugh, but a genuine one. England sighed sadly, wishing he could remember what exactly had provoked such mirth in possibly the two nations who laughed the least in the family.

The coloured pictures were fewer than the black and white ones and generally, England always looked gloomy or grumpy in them. The photos also weren't those kind of portrait photos anymore. In a lot of the photos there seemed to be a sort of celebration but England always looked unhappier in those.

Towards the end of the album, the photos stopped suddenly. There was still half a dozen of pages left to fill with photos but it seemed that the past England had simply stopped bothering with photos. As if he was sick of them. Was that why the album had been hidden under the armchair?

Flipping through the empty pages, England noticed that there was a large envelope at the end of the album. He took it out and looked at it, seeing that it had been opened but its contents hadn't been emptied of. He looked inside and saw there was a handful of photos inside the envelope. When England took the photos out, he saw that the past England had written on the back of the envelope:

"_Note to self: Do not allow your brothers to drag you to an Interceltic Festival ever again. Especially if beer and/or whiskey is involved."_

"Thanks for the warning." England mumbled to himself, suddenly wondering if he should really be looking at the photos in his hands. Was there a reason that they had not been removed from the envelope and added to the album? What if they were… but wait, if that event had been so bad, why would England have kept the photos in the first place?

The Brit took a look at the photos. They were in colour, and in a much richer colour than the other photos England had seen. Which meant the photos themselves were not that old. The first few pictures only seemed to be of a festival, probably this Interceltic Festival that his past self had mentioned earlier.

Then England came to a picture where Wales and two other unfamiliar avatars (he couldn't tell if they were nations or not) were staring directly at the camera and were sticking their tongues out cheekily. England rolled his eyes, the sticking the tongue out thing seemed to be quite popular among his brothers.

But it seemed to be done here in good humour. England looked at the other photos and noticed a strange, blurry one, as if the camera had been jostled around quite a bit. The next few photos showed the past England, though England had no idea who was holding the camera at the moment then. He could only make out that the past England was being, literally, dragged off by Scotland and Ireland and the Brit looked like he was yelling at them to be released.

Didn't seem like they listened to him.

For a few frames, the old England and the two elder Celtic brothers disappeared from view and England caught some glimpses of the two unnamed avatars stifling their laughter. Then there was a photo where Ireland and Scotland were clearly fleeing for their lives, England's past self hot on their heels. The old England was completely drenched to the skin, but England couldn't tell whether it was because of water or something else.

… No, it couldn't be water, the liquid seemed too dark. Beer perhaps then? Well, water or beer, the past England looked pissed off as hell. In the last photo, the past England was stomping his way towards the camera and was reaching out towards the device, scowling darkly and seeming to growl something.

Then the photos ended here. England looked at the photos that he had strewn around him, and then looked at the black and white photos that were still stuck in the album. There was quite a difference between the England from the black and white photos and the England from the colour photos. He seemed angrier, more resentful. England frowned as he picked up the photo with him chasing after Scotland and Ireland. Sure, maybe his brothers shouldn't have pushed him into whatever the heck they had pushed him into, but it was no reason to freak out so much about it that you give chase. Looking closely though, his older brothers didn't look particularly worried that they were being chased by an enraged Brit. They actually seemed to find it immensely amusing.

Well, the photos proved that England really did have a short temper and so, was a common target for those who wanted to tease him. Wait, was pushing someone into a vat of beer even considered teasing? The island nation shook his head in confusion, the only thing he knew was that he had to stop reacting to teasing. He already had the problem before, and he apparently still had it.

"England?"

England started in surprise, he hadn't heard anyone enter the house or even approach him. And yet this voice had sounded really close to him. England whipped his head up and looked around. Where had the voice come from?

"Over here."

The little nation looked up and was shocked when he saw a small blue ball of light descend towards him. England let out a gasp as he scrambled to his feet to put a distance between him and the strange appearance.

"You don't need to be afraid England."

"Who are you? How do you know my name?" England asked nervously, staring at the orb of light distrustfully. It floated nearer to him and England noticed that what he first thought was a ball of light, actually was starting to look like a… small human-like creature with fluttering dragon-fly wings. The strange creature regarded England silently before splitting into a relieved grin when it saw its reflection in England's eyes. It turned around to face the empty room and called out joyfully, "You can all come out, he still has his Sight! And it seems fully intact!"

"My what?" England was confused by his words but before he could question further, he spotted more of the strange creatures appear from thin air, all gathering around England as they chattered excitedly. England looked at them warily, wondering whether he should attempt to flee from them or not. After all, they looked a bit suspicious to him. What was all that talk about him keeping his "Sight"?

"I told you that he wouldn't lose his Sight. It takes more than a petty memory loss to lose it." One of the creatures declared loudly.

"It's easy to assume the worst, he hasn't called for us since months! And the poison he used was extremely potent, it could have damaged or destroyed his Sight permanently." Another of the strange creature countered.

England watched them in a state of mesmerisation at their glowing orbs surrounding them but was still a bit afraid of them. They were all glowing so nicely and although they didn't show any signs of being aggressive, England simply couldn't remember who or even what they were. What had they meant to the past England?

"Everyone calm down, we're confusing the poor lad." One of the creature cried out from among the others. The group quietened quite quickly, all staring at England wordlessly.

The island nation finally got the courage to ask, "So… who are you all?"

"We're faes, we're your friends." One of the faes explained brightly. It fluttered closer to England, so that the nation could see it more clearly. The fae looked like a miniature version of a woman except the tips of her ears were sharper and she had butterfly wings sprouting from her back. The glow seemed to be emanating from her skin.

When England looked up, the other faes had approached him and he could see each of them clearly, noting that they varied a lot in appearance and the glow that were stemming from them. After a moment, he mumbled apologetically, "I'm sorry, but I really have no memory of any of you."

"Some of us were there for you when you were a young nation, you were often lonely and afraid. We always came when you cried back then." One of the faes explained insistently, determined to make England remember them.

England could faintly remember his past self mentioning the faes in his dream last night… he briefly got a flash of memory of a younger England crying in a dark forest and the reassuring glowing lights surrounding him and comforting him. England opened his eyes to watch the faes in front of him. "Are you then the faes who named me Albion?" He asked curiously.

Some of the faes smiled widely at the question and a few laughed cheerfully.

"So he does remember something about us!" One of the faes exclaimed.

"Yes, some of us are the very ones that were there when you were named Albion." Another fae answered with pride.

"Though I'm not sure what became of the faes who gave England this name… they probably faded away, none of us have seen them in centuries." A third fae murmured thoughtfully.

"But my name is England…" England was looking confused, staring around at the group of fluttering faes. What did the name Albion mean to him, the personification of England? What significance did the name hold?

"It was your original name before the Angles, along with other Germanic invaders, who came to your lands and claimed you as theirs." A fae replied, hovering quite close to the small nation. The tiny creature was frowning, apparently not much of a fan of the Angles.

"But why give me a name? What does Albion mean? What does England actually mean?" England questioned inquisitively, his curiosity piqued.

"We gave you this name because we could feel it in the land that you were destined to represent the entire island one day, just like the previous Albion." One fae answered with a giggle.

"Wait, you named me after another nation?" England asked perplexed.

"Yes, she was a very beautiful nation but sadly she disappeared along with the downfall of the rest of the Ancients. She represented the first Celts that came to this land." A fae explained.

"And the name "Albion" means white, which was fitting for you since you are so pale." Another fae added, swooping closer to England and landing gently on England's shoulder. England jolted slightly at the touch, the magic coursing in the fae's body was causing the magic inside him to respond to the presence of the other source.

"England comes from the name Angleland, the name the Angles gave you when they came to your lands. They claimed you as theirs and you accepted them as your people." A third fae piped up.

"You all know so much about my past…" England mumbled in awe, watching in interest as some of the faes flitted here and there.

"You used to know all this yourself England." One of them sighed sadly.

"We were really scared when you tried to take your life." Another fae admitted, landing on the open album in front of England.

"Were you there when I tried killing myself?" England asked hesitantly, looking around at all the faes. Many of them were not looking at England directly, their expressions expressing sadness and regret.

"We wish we had been." A fae finally answered.

"That day, you were really depressed and when we asked you if everything was alright, you just told us you wanted to be alone for a while." Another explained.

"I knew that poison was going to be used for no good from the beginning! We should have smashed it when we had time!" A fae cried out energetically, throwing her little arms in the air in frustration.

England frowned at the new piece of information. "America mentioned to me that I swallowed poison… but I know that nations are strong so it must have been a really strong poison. But where did I…" The nation trailed off as a flash of memory provided him the answer.

He was shocked by the answer, "…I made the poison?"

"Yeah," one of the faes nodded, "it's known to be the most dangerous poison of the world. You discovered it several months ago in your potion book and you were made curious by it. You wanted to try making it, the list of ingredients was long and the method of making was difficult. It was a challenge for you."

"The poison is extremely potent, in the book it was described as a poison capable of shutting down the whole human body and killing a human within minutes of getting it in the blood flow. A few drops are enough to kill." A fae added to the explanation. England shivered at the haunting description, how could the past England even consider injecting that into his blood?

The fae who had landed on the album looked at the photos briefly before looking up at England and asking curiously, "You're looking at the photos again? You used to do it a lot in the past but recently you stopped looking at the album entirely."

"Why did I stop?" England looked down at the fae, mystified by the fae's words. He wasn't confused about why he had looked at the photos so much… it was more why he suddenly stopped looking at them.

"It happened one night where you got very drunk. You took the album out from the shelf and you scratched the title out of the album. You then threw the book around. Next morning, when you had sobered up, you were so shocked by what you had done that you hid the album under the armchair and since then you haven't looked in it again." Another fae explained as he landed on the album, briefly scanning the photos.

England looked at album and found something odd. He looked at the fae who had previously spoken and observed, "The album is in a good shape for something that has been thrown around."

All the faes chuckled collectively and one of them explained, "We tried repairing it and we've succeeded mostly. Sadly we couldn't fix the scratched title, we think some of your magic leaked into it when you were scratching it away so that was beyond our power to repair."

"Anyway, it's a good source of memories. You'll maybe regain some memories by looking at the photos." Another fae concluded. England nodded and picked the album up, letting the two faes fly away before closing the book.

Just then England heard the front door open and close. Thinking Wales had returned, England stood up to go and meet his brother. However he stumbled back when he saw that whoever was going up the stairs was not his brother, not even someone he recognised. The unknown person looked up and saw England staring at him through the railings. The stranger smiled but England was not put at ease. He started backing away and hurried back into the room.

"Hey, wait!" The stranger called after England. Once the island nation had returned in the room, the faes gathered around him, looking at the Brit worriedly.

"What is it England?" One of the faes asked urgently.

"The-there's a person here that I don't know and I don't know how he managed to get inside…" England stuttered, feeling slightly shaky. In Wales' note, his brother had explained that for security reasons, he had locked up the house so that any unwelcome company wouldn't be able to get inside the house. So how did this stranger manage to break in?

"Don't worry, we'll protect you." A female fae hissed dangerously, and the faes quickly moved forward to form a protective wall in front of England, facing the doorway. Moments later, the unknown person walked in hesitantly, looking in surprise as he was met by the hostile faes.

The faes immediately relaxed upon seeing who it was and the glowing wall dispersed itself. They turned around to look at England happily and one of them giggled, "That's no stranger England, he's of your kin. He's on some of your photos even."

"My… kin?" England repeated hesitantly, looking over to the other person. He then remembered that he had seen this young man in a couple of the photos, he was there at the Interceltic Festival! And as a side note, England also saw now that the other avatar had the thick eyebrow syndrome as well.

"Err, yeah… I'm Cornwall, sorry for freaking you out back there. Umm, Wales is your brother and he is my brother as well… so that makes us brothers too. So we are kin." The avatar apologised awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

Looking closer, England did see the resemblance. The only noticeable differences were the single braid at the side of his scalp and… were his eyes different colours? Yeah, the right one was blue and the other was green… strange. While England was studying Cornwall closely, he questioned, "But you don't feel like a nation to me…"

"Well, I'm not an official nation… I'm a county, an English county to be exact." Cornwall explained, "I'm considered as a Celtic nation still, so I haven't been completely been demoted from my status as a former nation…"

"So you used to be a nation?" England asked in a surprised tone, understanding now why his senses were picking up mixed signals from Cornwall.

"Yeah… you know, you can stop looking at me so oddly. I know I have two differently coloured eyes, no need to make a big deal out of it." Cornwall muttered uncomfortably, shifting awkwardly from one foot to another.

England blinked a few times before apologising, "I'm sorry, it's just… unusual."

Some of the faes chuckled at the choice of word, though Cornwall looked at loss on how to react. One of the faes then turned to face England and said in a kind voice, "I think it is best that we get going, you're alright and safe to which we are all glad of. If you ever feel lonely or scared, don't hold back from calling for us. We'll be there for you, no matter what."

England smiled at the caring words and replied, "Thank you, I'm sorry that I don't fully recognize you all but one day, all my memories will be back. So I'll work to get my memories back as soon as I can."

The surrounding faes smiled encouragingly and fluttered past England, biding him and Cornwall farewell. Then the faes disappeared into thin air, as if they had never been present in the room. Both nation and county were silent for a while.

Then England turned to Cornwall and asked curiously, "Actually, what brought you here?"

"Wales wanted me to pass you the message that he was running late and he suggested that we meet together to… ah, renew connections as he called it. He basically wants you to spend some family time with me."

"How many brothers do I have? The list is getting a bit long." England sighed a little, trying to do a headcount of the nations he already knew he was close to. His family was turning out to be a lot larger than he anticipated.

Cornwall laughed at that, "The family is quite big but don't despair. In the immediate relations, you have one more brother and a sister whom you haven't met yet. At least… I think so. I lose track as well, don't worry." As an afterthought, Cornwall added, "You should consider yourself lucky that those faes are so loyal to you… it isn't easy to befriend them and gain their trust. God knows how long it took me to gain their trust… but somehow, they've been with you from the start. They sort of took you under their wing, so to say."

"Is it really that unusual?" England asked, looking at Cornwall.

The county looked thoughtful for a moment before saying, "Faes can be helpful and kind but they mostly enjoy pulling pranks and being mischievous on humans. So, in a way, it was surprising how quickly they became attached to you. Personally I think they are too easily excited or angered."

England remembered one word the faes had mentioned that he hadn't fully understood. "What does the "Sight" mean actually? The faes said they were afraid that I had maybe lost it."

"Oh, it just means having the ability of seeing mythical creatures and spirits. Not many nations have the ability nowadays, mythical creatures have been all but forgotten by us." Cornwall replied, sounding a bit sad.

"How many of us have it?"

"Well, we, including Ireland, Wales, Scotland and North have this ability… Norway and Romania also have the Sight… and I think a few other nations here and there. We all used to have the Sight in the past but over time, most of the nations… simply forgot."

Cornwall then turned to look at the album that was still on the ground and the photos that hadn't been stuck into the album. Eyeing them curiously, Cornwall bent down and scooped up a couple of the photos. Looking at them briefly, he suddenly laughed, "Oh, I remember this! This was at the Interceltic Festival where we managed to get you to come with us." He looked at another photo and stifled his laughter, "And that's when Ireland and Scotland into an Irish whiskey vat. That was very amusing."

"You think?" England questioned in a not very amused tone, raising an eyebrow towards the entertained county. Cornwall jerked and became slightly pale in the face as realization hit him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult you! It just slipped out like that!" Cornwall hurriedly apologised, shrinking away instinctively. He backed into the shelves of books and bumped into it, causing a few books to fall down. The county tripped on one of the books and fell against the bookshelves, sliding down to the ground as other books fell on his head.

England winced and quickly walked over to the fallen county. "Hey, I didn't mean to scare you like that. I was just saying that pushing me into a vat of whiskey wasn't my idea of something amusing. I don't understand why you freaked out so much…"

The county was rubbing his head painfully and he opened his blue eye. England was shocked to see that the blue eye seemed to have changed, it had become colder. "I'm sorry," Cornwall gritted, his voice seeming to have changed as well, "I guess it comes as second nature for me."

* * *

The Brit reeled back from Cornwall, suddenly filled with a strange feeling of fear and loss._ He felt something pulling him back and when he opened his eyes, he abruptly found himself in a memory. England blinked, trying to understand what had happened. Had Cornwall's blue eye triggered a memory?_

_Though this time, the memory seemed to be taking place in England's home, just in another room. But somehow the time period felt different… what further supported his assumption as well was the clothing the past England was wearing. The old England was studying a large map on a table sharply, frowning as he made crosses here and there and added additional notes to the crosses. England's past self looked like he was really in a foul mood. England swiftly got pulled into the old England, becoming one with his thoughts._

"_England, please listen to me. You have to help him." A voice pleaded, sounding almost helpless and hating it._

_England turned around and saw Wales standing not far from him. His brother looked unusually worried and upset, not a fitting expression for someone who was normally in complete control of his emotions. But this time it looked like the Welsh nation was really desperate for England's help._

"_I don't see why I should care. Cornwall is just a simple county, he's replaceable like the rest of them." England answered coldly, turning his attention back to studying the large map lain out on the table. Wales looked at England and bristled at the insult._

"_Cornwall is NOT replaceable! He is… h-he used to be a nation and he's my brother. He's your brother as well. You can't do this to your own family!" Wales hissed, walking up to the empire and placing a hand on the map, causing England to look up and glare at Wales in annoyance. The Brit exhaled loudly and rubbed his temples, as if he was dealing with a bad headache._

"_Family never meant much to me, to be honest. At least not with the likes of you, you were never too warm with the idea of me being kin." England drawled, looking at Wales squarely. "I also struggle understand why exactly is Cornwall in danger of dying, he isn't a small tribe but a county. Last time I checked, his people are still around and alive. Cornwall has no need to die."_

"_But he is. His people are losing their identity, losing their language. The language Cornish is dying out and his people are being anglicised with every passing generation. Cornwall is weakening constantly, you have stop imposing English on his people." Wales said insistently._

"_If Cornwall is dying because that filthy language of his is disappearing, then he is no true English county of mine. So he can die for all I care. Then I'll just give that piece of land to Devon, he will be happy with his expanded territory." England sniffed but then smirked, relishing in the look of horror that appeared on his older brother's face._

"_Y-you can't do that!" Wales exclaimed, looking alarmed and upset. _

_England let out a harsh bark of laughter, "I can do whatever I want, I'm the bloody British Empire! And, if I may remind you, it was in your own words after all." England growled, smirking smugly at the Welsh nation, "Sometimes an avatar simply isn't meant to survive." Wales looked at England in silent horror, pain and grief filling his eyes. Then his older brother closed his eyes tightly and when he opened them, they had dulled, emotionless. Wales nodded curtly and turned around to stiffly walk out of the room, not sparing the Brit another glance._

* * *

"England! Pow Sows! Please, wake up!" A voice called out to the Brit urgently. England snapped out of his trance and blinked a few times. He was lying on his back and his eyes locked with a green eye and a blue eye. Cornwall urged worriedly, "England, are you alright? You totally blacked out there, what happened? Did I do something to you?"

"I'm alright Cornwall, this is just me reliving a memory. There's nothing to worry about, it's becoming a rather common thing for me…" England mumbled, attempting to sit up. But he found himself being gently pushed back on his back by the county, Cornwall looking at him closely.

"No, tell me what happened. Did I do or say anything weird to you? Please tell me I didn't attack you." Cornwall questioned nervously. England looked at the English county in confusion, mystified by the Celtic nation's words.

He began slowly, "I don't really understand why you're asking me these questions…"

Cornwall sighed and leaned back, allowing England to sit up, while he said, "Sorry England, but the others, particularly Wales and Brittany, have been telling me for a while that I might have developed a split personality disorder or something of the sort. Mainly because I abruptly change personalities and I have those blank moments where I don't remember anything. Like just before, I bumped against the book shelf and I can't remember anything after that. Then I wake up to find you on the ground and not responding to me. It's freaky enough to scare the hell out of you."

"No, you didn't do anything to me… I think your split personality actually triggered a memory." England rubbed his forehead, trying to wrap his mind around the recently rediscovered memory. Wow, his past self really acted like a… no, England wasn't even to go there.

"Oh? What memory did you get?" Cornwall asked curiously.

"Err… did your language, Cornish, ever… die?" England questioned hesitantly, sort of fearing the answer already.

The county blinked a few times before looking down at his hands, avoiding England's eyes. He sighed, "It didn't exactly die, or else I wouldn't be alive. But many people say that my last fluent native speaker died in 1777 and revival efforts didn't start until 1904. The language somehow survived as scattered words here and there in my population until then."

"And I suppose I didn't do much to help, huh?" England exhaled slowly, he too looking down at the ground with a frown. Cornwall stared at England and looked at loss at what he should say. His eyes looked conflicted, battling with different emotions.

Finally, he said, "England, I hold no grudge against you. It happened, it belongs to the past now. It would have been a different matter if you had committed genocide of my people, which you didn't do." Suddenly Cornwall looked up and looking towards the opening of the room, he muttered, "You know I heard you out there Wales, come in."

There was a shuffling of feet from outside the room and the Welsh nation walked in slowly, a sheepish smile on his face as he looked at Cornwall. "Ever the sharp ears, I see."

"You're really not fair Kembra, what were you expecting from me and England? This awkward situation?" Cornwall looked annoyed and exasperated, staring at his brother in disbelief.

"I was hoping that a new memory would resurface, which did actually happen. Our main priority is to bring as many memories back to England as possible." Wales shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant.

Cornwall shook his head as he stood up, looking at Wales directly. "Brother, I really think you should consider whether your plans are fool proof or not. I think that your plans or ideas all too often tend to spiral out of control or produce the opposite result that you wanted."

"Yeah, I still don't understand why you thought it was a good idea of leaving me in the dark about my past." England said as he stood up as well, sounding a bit accusing. He hadn't entirely forgiven Wales for having done that.

The Welsh nation looked uncomfortable before defending himself, "Look England, I did it because I really thought that I was helping you. I wasn't trying to do anything bad, not intentionally."

"Alright, but WHY did you think it was a good idea?" England pressed the subject, he knew his brother was hiding the true reason behind his actions.

"Come on Wales, you can say it. There's nothing holding you back." Cornwall encouraged, crossing his arms over his chest.

Wales hesitated for a moment, looking from England to Cornwall, before slumping his shoulders in defeat, "Alright, alright… the reason I did it was because I… was afraid you would reject your past self."

"…Why would you think that?" England was surprised by the answer.

"It's obvious really, you're recovering in a time where our values and mentalities are vastly different than to what they used to be. Many things we did in the past, we deemed them okay back then. Nowadays these actions would be seen as inhumane and harsh. And since you would be reliving these memories from a different point of view, you would be disgusted by your actions and it would lead you to reject England completely. You would be trying to be someone else." Wales explained.

"But is it so bad if I reject the past England? To become a different person?" England asked.

His older brothers both frowned and Wales quickly shook his head, "No, you're England, albeit one who doesn't have all his memories. If you reject yourself, you are cutting off the entire tree of your existence. Isn't it better to simply remove the rotten branches and to continue growing, learning from your mistakes and becoming an even stronger tree?"

England became thoughtful. When put like that, it did seem more favourable to grow on where the past England had stopped, learning from his mistakes. But still, England was putting a barrier between himself and the past England. Somehow he couldn't relate himself to his other self yet. He needed more time for that to happen.

He replied carefully, "I… I just don't think I like what Eng- I mean what I did in the past. I'm sure I did horrible things… look what almost happened to Cornwall, and he's certainly not the only one who suffered by my hands."

The English county shot his Welsh brother a "I told you so" glare while Wales rolled his eyes and nudged Cornwall with his elbow. Then the Welsh nation turned his attention back to England and said, "And," Wales put his hands on England's shoulders, "So did I. And Cornwall. And Scotland. And many others. If you ask any nation, almost all of them will admit that they've done something in the past that they regret. No one is perfect England, we can only improve by continuing forward. Accepting our flaws and mistakes. But not going backwards. That's never was the answer."

They were silent for a while, England staring with wide eyes at Wales. He could agree with him to a certain extent, but England was still wary of his past self. Though it was only now that his memories were becoming clearer and less sketchy, the island nation did wonder just about how many horrible things he did in his past. He was starting to hate the fact that he had been an empire. However Wales was expecting an answer from England and the Brit knew his older brother wanted to hear a positive answer from him.

He sighed before replying, "Okay, I can… try not to be too harsh on my past self." That still didn't mean he was going to be completely blind. He'll first have to see more memories of himself in the past before completely condemning the old England.

Wales smiled in relief and patted England's shoulder, "Great, I'm glad that you're being open-minded to this…" His brother trailed off as he seemed to realize something and he looked more closely at England, his eyes narrowing slightly in concentration. England noticed the odd reaction and was a bit nervous because of it. What had Wales seen wrong?

"Uh… what is it?" England questioned warily, staring at Wales carefully.

The Welsh nation said nothing as crouched to England's eyelevel, scrutinizing his smaller brother. England held still, feeling uneasy. What was wrong? Wales looked over to Cornwall and asked the county, "Cornwall, do you also agree that this shirt on England appears a little… small?"

Cornwall looked at Wales in confusion but then looked at England for a few seconds. After a moment, he nodded uncertainly, agreeing that the shirt did almost look too small for the Brit.

"England…?" Wales said hesitantly, reaching out his hand to touch the sleeve of England's shirt, "Is this a new shirt you're wearing?"

England blinked in surprise before slowly shaking his head. "Err, no. Sorry, it's the same from yesterday, I-I should have changed it, yes?"

"No, no, no." Wales swiftly shook his head, still gazing at England in astonishment. "It's just… I think you've grown. I can't believe I didn't see it immediately, but you seem bigger than yesterday."

"I grew?" England asked in amazement, looking down at himself. "I didn't notice anything. Is it because of the shirt?"

"Yes, yesterday it was too big for you and now it seems almost too small. Last time I checked, shirts don't spontaneously shrink overnight, which concludes that you must have grown." Wales answered, still trying to get over his surprise and… happiness. Cornwall was also looking quite surprised but broke out into a smile. Wales beamed happily, "That's great England, you're finally growing again! I was afraid you wouldn't ever grow!"

England was also feeling very pleased. So now his physical body finally started growing? It certainly had taken its time, it was long overdue. "Why was there such a long delay actually?" England questioned curiously, looking at Wales.

Wales shrugged helplessly, "I'm not a doctor so I can't really say. Maybe it was linked to psychological healing process, since you weren't healing properly in that are, your body was unable to grow."

Cornwall chuckled, "Well, I guess this deserves a small celebration, no? We can pass by my house, I just made some new pasties. That is, if any of you are hungry of course."

"Well, I'm up to the invitation, I'm starting to feel a little hungry." Wales agreed.

England nodded as well as he became aware that he was quite hungry and all three avatars started making their way out of the room. Of course, before they left, England gathered the photos together and put them back in the envelope and put the album on the armchair. He was going to put that album back in the shelf where it belonged, but he'd have to wait a bit before he could reach the shelves. As they left the room, England realized he hadn't been entirely honest to Wales, because he was going to judge his past self with as much harshness as necessary. He felt bad… he had just lied after all. A small harmless lie, but still a lie.

**Ohh, so you'll start lying again? How typical, you always resorted to lying. It's the only way people accept you, honesty brings you nothing but pain and-**

_-Shut it!- _England growled internally at the voice, pushing it as far back as possible. He was not allowing that damn voice to take over again!

* * *

Almost two days had passed and Canada was not too surprised when he found his North American brother at his doorstep. The Canadian had been actually wondering if America would turn up at all, but he still had a gut feeling to expect the American. After all, what had happened at England's house two days ago were enough to cement Canada's belief that America really did have strong feelings for England.

…And apparently America didn't understand them and didn't know how to deal with them. It had been simply a matter of time before he would turn to Canada to seek out his advice. Canada was prepared to take the risk and encourage America's feelings. Though Canada still had no assurances that England would rediscover his love for America, he knew that America was passing the important conversion from confusion to acceptance of what he felt for England.

Canada also had to finally inform America of England's feelings before the suicide, since no one else was going to do it. And the chances that America had an inkling of a clue about them were pretty low, America had been too occupied by the actual attempt of suicide rather than what had caused it.

The Canadian smiled mildly at America, greeting him, "Hey America, what brings you here? You know the World Meeting is in a few days at India's place, right?"

"Yeah, yeah…" America replied distractedly, looking quite confused and lost. Seemed like whatever was on his mind had been there for a while and was bothering him.

"Well, come on in." Canada invited, stepping to the side to allow the American to walk in. He did so reluctantly, every step he took was unsure. Canada closed the door behind him quietly and followed his brother.

America stopped in the hallway, hesitating to continue moving forwards. Canada came to a stop beside him, deciding that it was better for him to get to the point right away. "So, what brings you here to my house America?"

The American jolted at the question, quickly turning his head to look at Canada in surprise before trying to smile dumbly at him, "What do you mean by that, can't I visit my own brother for no particular reason?"

"America, I know that something is up. You've been acting very unAmerica-like since you've entered my house and I know you well enough to know that there is a reason you came here." Canada said sternly, having a déjà vu from when America went to France's house looking for answers.

America stared at the Canadian in astonishment before sighing and shrugging his shoulders, "Okay… there is something that I've been really trying to figure out and I can't so it's really bugging me…" He trailed off uncertainly, he had averted his gaze. Canada nodded, silently encouraging the American to continue. America briefly looked up before taking a deep breath. "It's about… England." He finally volunteered, looking conflicted more than ever.

"What about him?" Canada asked, though he really didn't need to ask. Canada knew already but he had to make America realize as well…

"You know back at England's house? Well, I've been having these weird feelings lately and… I think I did something really weird now…" America mumbled slowly, blushing a little bit. He was unwilling to say more until Canada prodded several times and America finally talked about the conversation he and England had had before America had gone back home.

Canada was quite surprised but also pleased at what America told him. Especially about the kiss, even though it was just on the forehead. Canada had to hold himself back from laughing, America looked so embarrassed and nervous as if he was admitting he was guilty of stealing cookies from a jar.

He was fumbling with his words right now, "…I mean I don't know what came over me, I just had suddenly the urge and that's what creeped me out a bit… I mean, I just did it without thinking… it didn't even seem weird at the moment…"

"How did England react to it?" Canada asked gently, England's reaction to this was also very crucial if Canada was to encourage America's feelings to "blossom" as France would put it.

America scratched his chin, looking thoughtful. "I think he was surprised… I don't think he seemed to hate it, he just looked very surprised. B-but it was simply a kiss on his forehead, nothing else!"

"But why exactly did you kiss England?" Canada countered patiently.

The American threw his arms up in frustration, "I don't know! That' why I came here, because I can't understand why I did it!"

Canada was surprised by the outburst and tried to calm his brother down, "Alright America, calm down and take a deep breath. Maybe we should walk in the garden, the fresh air will do you good."

His brother opened his mouth to protest, then closed it, opened it again and closed it. Finally he decided not to say anything and only nodded mutely. Canada nodded his head towards the other side of his house where they could enter the garden via his back door. Both nations walked quietly until they were in the garden.

Then Canada turned to America. "So then, can you describe to me how exactly those "weird feelings" feel like?"

"Well… they're really really strange. Sometimes I feel like someone is gripping my heart tightly and I have this weird gut feeling. And other times I feel like there's something literally fluttering inside my stomach. And I really don't get them, why do I get those weird feelings?"

Canada bit back a chuckle, and answered, "How long have you had those feelings?"

The American shrugged his shoulders, "I really don't know when they first came, maybe around the end of WWI, but I kept pushing them away because I didn't know what the heck they were, but they really started to become stronger… after England attempted suicide."

"Do you really have no idea what these feelings could represent?" Canada questioned insistently, stopping to turn towards America. Surely America couldn't be that oblivious.

The other nation shook his head, his eyes expressing confusion. Canada sighed.

Apparently America's obliviousness knew no limit.

Canada shook his head in disbelief, "Come on America, haven't you ever read one of those novels where those kind of feelings get described? You know, the romantic kind of novels?"

"I only read comics and science-fiction. I'm no romanticist like England." America scoffed, snorting at the thought. Suddenly he came to an abrupt halt as the intended message struck home. "…Wait, what do you mean by romantic novels? Are you trying to say that these weird feelings mean that I… l-love someone?"

"And that particular someone is…?" Canada smiled knowingly, he had finally broken through America's wall.

He saw America briefly mouth _England_ before he started to shake his head violently. "No, I can't be in love with England! I just can't be!"

Ah, with realization came denial of course. Canada should have expected that. There was still some work to be done here. "And why not? Canada questioned, determined to get America to acknowledge his feelings.

The American kept shaking his head. "I can't like him that way, it's… it's not okay that I like him like this! He raised me! A-and he probably doesn't like me back. Before and after his suicide attempt, I still think nothing has changed."

Canada sighed openly, "America, you're being oblivious again. England may have raised you but neither of you are related. Why isn't it okay for you to like England like that, huh? What if the feeling used to be mutual?"

America jolted at that. After a few seconds of consideration, America asked in a horrified tone, "Wait, you're saying that England loved me… before the suicide? But… that means that he committed suicide because of me!"

The American seemed genuinely shocked and hurt by the conclusion, his blue eyes wide with disbelief. It almost broke Canada's heart seeing America like this. Canada quickly tried to rectify the misunderstanding. "No America, it wasn't because of you that England tried killing himself! Not in the way you think and it's certainly not the only reason…"

Although America looked extremely relieved at that, he started looking confused, "But how can you know that England used to… like me? I mean we've always fought so often in the past… and England can't stand me. Or he used to at least. So how can you know that he liked me?"

Canada rolled his eyes, "Ask any nation America, they will all tell you that it has been evident for years that England had feelings for you."

America looked surprised at that but still questioned, "But is there any proof? Did England ever admit it or something?"

"No, England never admitted to it but there are still hints everywhere."

"…For example?"

Canada sighed, his brother really needed evidence that England had strong feelings for him? Well, luckily Canada did have an answer prepared for that. He hoped that the answer was convincing enough, it had convinced Canada after all.

"You do remember every time you celebrated your birthday, England would fall sick, right?"

America nodded slowly and pouted, "Yeah and he only came once or twice to my birthday party…"

"Did you actually ever wonder how it all began? When did England start falling sick on the date of your birthday?"

"I… I thought England had been doing that ever since I became independent." America blinked, staring at Canada curiously.

"That's exactly the thing. It didn't. After you became independent, of course England hated to have the event or the date mentioned but he never fell ill. That trend only started happening towards the end of WWI. Actually I think it really started after WWI. Do you know what that means?"

"That's where I started inviting England to my birthday parties…" America proposed uncertainly. At first, he had only invited England out of courtesy and because his boss at the time had encouraged America to improve international relations with England and other nations. But when the Brit always came up with an excuse not to come or would "politely" decline, America became determined to have England come to his birthday party for once and look happy. So America had continued sending invitations to England, even when he half knew that England would somehow avoid his birthday again.

Of course in the recent decades England had fallen quite often sick, giving him a perfect excuse not to attend America's party. But why did he fall sick so often?

"But Canada… why did England start falling sick when I started inviting him to my birthday?" America asked in confusion, looking at Canada who had been looking at America rather intently.

"It didn't become the way it is immediately. I saw from afar how first England would just complain about little headaches on the day of your birthday. But with every year, the sicknesses became worse and the times he would be sick before your birthday became longer. In the last few years the sicknesses started a week before your birthday…"

"And England's condition completely collapses during the time." America finished, he hadn't been this oblivious to how seriously ill England would become during that time. But America had always laughed it off and assumed that it was maybe because England had a faulty immune system. But where was Canada going with this?

"So, we can agree that with every passing year, whenever you sent an invitation and England declined it, he would fall sick." Canada checked to see America was following him. He continued, "America, England has been denying something from himself and the others, putting his body under heavy strain. It always reaches its peak point before your birthday and his condition crashes. With every year these sicknesses became more and more violent. Which means that whatever England is repressing is becoming stronger and he is trying with all his strength to deny it. Now America, what feeling exists that is this strong to cause England to fall so sick every time you invite him to your party?"

America looked at loss for words, opening his mouth and closing it wordlessly. He couldn't really argue with the point Canada was making. It couldn't be the date of America's birthday because England hadn't been bothered by it before really. And it couldn't be because of England's hatred towards America, because that too should have been affecting him right after America became independent. It all seems to have started with the America's invitations… it really narrowed everything down. What other emotion, excluding love and hatred, would be capable to produce such a violent reaction?

The American sighed in defeat, there was nothing he could think of to counter Canada's words. So England had been in love… with him? America still found that hard to believe.

Canada added quietly, "So if England loved you, why isn't it okay for you to love him back?"

"But… if England really loved me… then why did he try killing himself? Because he loved me?" America asked nervously, looking away briefly.

"No, not because of love." Canada shook his head. "Many reasons contributed America, love was maybe partly involved but not entirely. England was depressed and one of the things that depressed him the most was probably due to his inability to admit his feelings to you."

"But why?" America demanded, looking up at Canada with his azure eyes flashing. He quickly caught himself and willed himself to calm down. He took a deep breath through his nose and let it out noisily. He reattempted his question, "Why? I don't bite, I never gave him a reason not to have some trust in my reactions…"

"He was afraid of rejection America. Afraid of being rejected by you." Canada answered, a bit shocked by his brother's outburst.

"Why the heck did he think I would reject him?" America looked astounded by the notion.

"America, you're a young nation who is a superpower while England is a used-to-be-empire and had lost a lot of importance in the world. It was quite understandable from his point of view why he believed he stood no chance. So he ignored and denied his feelings as much he could."

America was silent, sticking his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket in frustration. He felt bad for not having noticed anything of that. It had never crossed his mind the possibility that England had been hiding his feelings from America. America had never questioned England's reactions, he always brushed it off as the Brit's grumpiness.

"How come none of you guys ever said anything?" America finally asked, sounding accusing, "If it was that obvious, how come no one ever told me anything about it?"

"Because it shouldn't be our place to tell you. Either you had to figure it out on your own or England would finally gather enough courage to admit his feelings. Neither of those options ever happened sadly." Canada explained, rolling his eyes at America a bit. America and England were grown nations, it was something they could deal with on their own. Unfortunately, nothing had ever happened because both sides had remained too blind to see.

"Well, it doesn't matter anymore, since England has forgotten everything and I'm pretty sure he will never feel the same about me again." America sighed and continued walking slowly.

"I don't think so America." Canada disagreed and hurried to catch up with America. The American turned his head to look at Canada in surprise. Canada explained, "Though England has lost his memories, he still has the same heart. The England we know is still somewhere in that heart. There are great chances that the more memories England regains, he could remember his feelings for you and fall in love with you again. Right now, we should keep an eye out for that development."

"What if it never happens?" America countered, looking doubtful.

Canada walked in front of America to face him and put his hands on his brother's shoulders. He stared deeply into America's eyes and said, "Believe that it will happen America. If it doesn't then it wasn't true love England was experiencing. But I doubt it, I've seen enough to convince me that England really had strong feelings for you and I'm sure it will return. You just have to have some patience America."

America laughed lightly, "You know how I am with patience."

"Trust me America, you will need a lot for this. England still has a long way to go until he is fully recovered. Once he has recovered you two can go on and become an adorable couple." Canada smiled at the last sentence.

The cheeks of his brother became bright red and America looked awkwardly away. He whined, "Don't say that kind of embarrassing stuff Canada…"

"But it's true." Canada chuckled, "You two would make a great couple without even trying. All you need is the courage to admit your feelings and accept them."

America looked at Canada again, his cheeks still red. He shifted awkwardly before replying, "…Thanks Canada. I don't know what I would do without you."

Canada beamed happily, he had finally convinced the American, "No worries America, that's what brothers do."

"But I still get to be the hero, right?" America interjected, looking hopeful.

The Canadian rolled his eyes and nodded. Really, could America ever let go of his hero-complex? Ah well, it was part of his personality, Canada couldn't change that however much he tried.

* * *

"So, do you understand the basics now?" Wales asked carefully, looking at England seriously.

"I think so." England nodded, taking a deep breath to prepare himself. Wales watched him for a moment before taking out another picture. He showed the picture to England, it was a picture of a hill overlooking a city.

"Okay, go there." Wales said calmly.

England stared at the picture hard, memorizing every detail of the picture, especially the hill. He then closed his eyes and walked forward, thinking hard of the place he had to go. He felt now the familiar fading of his surroundings as he moved towards the other location.

Suddenly England felt something hit his chest hard. The little island gasped and opened his eyes as he felt the ground disappearing under him. England grabbed at the object in front of him and held on tightly. The object was a tree branch.

The Brit took a moment to recover from his shock and looked around. He held before him the view of the city he had seen before in the picture. So he had managed to reach the place!

…However England had landed in a tree. He looked down below him and saw the ground quite far away from him. England sighed, he had reached the hilltop but had for some reason landed on a tree.

All this nation-hopping business turned out to be a lot more complicated when you tried to fine-tune it. Wales was trying to teach England how to nation-hop correctly and it was turning out to be a lot more difficult than anticipated.

After a moment he heard a set of footsteps approach the tree. England looked down to see Wales. The Welsh nation looked around in confusion, trying to find where England had disappeared off to. After a moment he looked up and his eyes widened in surprise as he spotted the Brit up in the tree.

His older brother stifled back his laughter and held his arms up, "Come on England, you can let go of the branch. I'll catch you." England hesitated for a moment before loosening his grip on the branch. When he let go, England was momentarily airborne before a felt a pair of hands caught him. Wales made a strange sound in his throat upon impact before lowering England to the ground.

"One can really notice that you're growing, you're becoming heavier as well." Wales exhaled loudly. England felt happy at the comment, his body was finally growing at a reasonable pace. He would soon no longer be dwarfed by the other nations. In height he had grown to a point where he could finally reach the doorknobs but he had to go on tiptoes to achieve that. Many things still were still out of his reach but England was convinced it wouldn't stay that way for long.

"So, you were concentrating on the tree, right?" Wales questioned in an amused tone, reminding England of why he had landed on the tree. England reddened a bit in embarrassment at the question. He slowly nodded.

"You have to concentrate on the picture as a whole. Thankfully you chose just a tree now, but if you have to land in a city… well, we can't have you landing on buildings and towers." Wales said sternly.

"I know…" England mumbled and then grumbled, "Isn't there an easier way to nation-hop?"

"There is." Wales answered. "But it only works if you have an exact idea of the coordinates of the place. Since you have forgotten these, you can't nation-hop to locations accurately without them."

"How do I get these… coordinates?" England asked curiously.

"Only by being at the place. When you land there, your head immediately registers the correct coordinates. Then you just have to imagine the place in your mind and the coordinates in your sub-consciousness will lead you to the place." Wales explained but then quickly added, "However, you MUST pay attention to difference in distance between the two places. You can't jump from here to Australia in a single jump, it's too vast and very energy-draining. You would collapse immediately if you attempted that jump."

"How about jumping over the Atlantic Ocean?"

Wales thought for a moment. "That's not too bad but still, it's not something to be done daily. Travelling from here to the other side of the ocean will still give you the effects similar to jet lag, though maybe not as strong as the actual jet lag."

"Oh." Was all England could say.

Both nations were silent for a moment before Wales spoke up. "Do you know why I've been teaching you how to nation-hop by yourself today?"

"So that I can I can travel independently and without any help?" England proposed, half-shrugging.

"Partly, yes. But also, you know that the World Meeting will be taking place at India's house tomorrow, right?" Wales looked at England to check if the smaller nation was listening.

England nodded.

"Well, I would like to see if you can go there tomorrow by yourself and represent your country at the meeting."

England paled at the answer. He, go all the way to India's house to this meeting? On-on his own?

Wales noticed England's reaction and quickly reassured, "No, you won't be completely on your own for the voyage. Ireland will be accompanying you to make sure you stay safe but apart from that, you have to nation-hop for yourself."

"But what do I do at the meeting?" England asked nervously, he had absolutely no clue what these World Meetings were even about.

"All you really need to do is listen. We don't actually do a lot at those meetings, we mostly discuss recent events that are affecting our countries and such. These meetings are often useless as many of the nations love fighting and arguing between each other." Wales smiled at England encouragingly. "So you have no need to be nervous England. Anyway, there'll be plenty of nations there whom you will recognize."

England didn't feel completely convinced but then he reminded himself that he might be able to see America again. And meet other nations that might become familiar to him. But strangely enough, England was looking forward to seeing America in particular. "I suppose I could try… I'm still not entirely sure about my nation-hopping skills though." England admitted.

"They're not top notch yet, but you're able enough to get from one place to the other. And anyway, Ireland is going to accompany you so no need to worry if you lose your way or… get stuck up another tree." At that last sentence, Wales couldn't stop his amusement from leaking into his voice, finding the scenario hilarious.

England reddened at yet another reminder of his nation-hopping skills and huffed moodily, "I can't help it, it's not as if I demanded to land on the tree!"

"Come on England, I was just teasing you. It's an amusing mistake to make." Wales shook his head and patted England on his shoulder. "Now we should head back home. I have some paperwork to do and I believe you have to revise a bit of world geography."

"Do I have to?" England whined, pouting slightly. In the last few days Wales had made England look over the map several times, refreshing his memories on the various nations who existed. It was boring and uninteresting for England, he would rather meet the actual nation than to learn where they are located and who their neighbours were.

"It might help you with tomorrow, England. There will be many nations who you still won't recognize but their names will ring a bell for you. Perhaps that might encourage you to regain a few more memories." Wales explained and started to walk off. He turned to look at England and called, "Now, to get home think of the house. It's as simple as that. But please try not to land on the house, alright?"

Wales chuckled at his joke before walking briskly, disappearing in a blink of the eye. England grumbled a bit, he really didn't like it when Wales was teasing him. It wasn't as bad as Hong Kong's teasing and definitely was far better than what England had endured when he used to be younger, but still.

Locking the image of the house in his mind, England prayed he wouldn't actually land on the house and started walking in the direction Wales had disappeared, he too fading away as he nation-hopped back home.

* * *

**A/N**

Alright, a few notes here. America is finally is aware of his love for England! But he'll have to wait for a while, he wants to see after all if England might develop feelings for him again. I hope the explanations were good enough, I don't think I've read a fic where the author actually tackles the question "Why does England become sick all the time, especially on the 4th of July"? I'm surprised, it can easily be interpreted as England's crush on America. At least that's the headcanon I have there. I also think America's feelings for England could have started as early as WWI but I generally think that America would have become aware of them in WWII. Ah well, the romance arc is being gradually introduced into the story but I don't think I will allow it to completely dominate the story from here on. Yes, love and romance is important in life but I think it is almost overrated nowadays. So, don't expect me to write someting gushy or sexy soon, I'm not even planning on making this love thing a difficult conversion. Mainly because I don't appreciate stories where there are difficult triangles or half the world opposes the love of the couple. I can watch movies like that, provided that they have something else to offer. But I don't like reading it. Remember the fic "Looking through a Kaleidoscope"? Completely turned me away, I didn't even bother reading the end... it also sort of stopped my era of reading fanfictions, now I barely pick up anything that is not a oneshot. I just lost trust in reading good fanfictions, do you know how many I liked so much and judging that they haven't had an update in months, that I have to assume they're discontinued? :(

Anyway, on to other things. I hope that Cornwall has been well received, he's sort of a mixture of Latvia and New Zealand, but has a distinctive Celtic attitude as well. He might come off as a bit skittish here because of England, that's due to one of my headcanons. We have a three-level hierarchy of avatars: The nations. The regions/states/provinces/cantons/counties etc. The cities/towns/villages. Now, interactions between these three levels is not common, a city might talk to a state but talking to a nation is unheard of. A state might talk with a nation but is more likey to talk with a city. Nations mostly forget that those others exist. Or rarely bother to remember. Cornwall, as a county, reacts nervously towards England because our dear Brit is his boss while Cornwall is just an English county. But due to his previous status of being a nation and being considered as one of the 6 remaining Celtic nations in modern times, Cornwall would be at ease talking with Wales and the other Celtic nations. It depends how a nation functions, Germany and America would interact more with their states/Bundesländer because they can't function correctly without all of them working together. But France totally favours the region of Paris and forgets about the rest of the regions, which pisses them off but they spend their time sucking up to Paris in the hopes of being noticed more. I apologize if it sounds a bit unHetalia-like, I like filling in the spaces that Himaruya leaves blank or vague. (but honestly, it's almost as if he's doing it on purpose)

To answer what Cornwall has as well: For his eyes, he actually has the condition "Heterochromia iridum". Nope, it isn't made up. The idea came when I tried to give Cornwall a certain eye colour, it didn't feel right with blue but it didn't feel right with green. So I made his eyes different colours and believe it or not, it totally fit him. At first I was hesitant with adding that to his description but then I thought, hey, we already have an albino nation and another albino ex-nation. (yeah, no one ever comments that Iceland is actually an albino as well. Yes, there are two types of albinism, one with red eyes and the other with either blue or brown eyes) And on top of that, we have a nation with red eyes, some nations with purple eyes... would two differently coloured eyes really stand out, especially since that condition is more realistic than purple eyes? Oh, and Cornwall also has a dissociative indentity disorder. I based that on the fact that when his language was "revived" in the early 1900s, one group of people picked the Cornish up from where it stopped, so in the 1770s, while another group of people went back 400 years to speak the Cornish that wasn't infected by English yet. Both groups don't like the other and often fight over whose Cornish is the most accurate. So Cornwall sometimes gets those identity crisis where he tries to make himself more Celtic and break off the English roots. He's also the only nation considered to be able to cook well, he makes those tasty pasties. He escaped the bad cooking curse.

There is another headcanon that I've been developing recently, the one that states that if the language a nation was founded by starts dying, the nation runs in the danger of dying with it if there aren't any dialects of the language. So a nation doesn't die if their language evolves and splits into different dialects. The extinction of a language is one of the causes that can kill a nation, but there are certainly other ways of killing a nation. So don't judge the language headcanon too harshly yet, but point out to me if you find a weak spot in it. I attacked all the weak spots I could find.

Enough blabbering from me, see you next time! ^^


	35. Chapter 35

This chapter is, in comparison to the previous chapters, quite short so I apologise for that. I will get around to the reviews and PMs when I get enough time, I apologise for the delay. I'm just a bit too overwhelmed, lost and a bit depressed to be able to write longer chapters. I finally moved to Scotland and right now I'm trying to settle in Glasgow and get used to the whole University thing. I'm sharing my flat with 4 other girls, 1 being Scottish, another being English, two Americans, 1 from Illnois and another from Alaska. Hetalia senses tingling for anyone yet? Thought so. Weather in Glasgow is really not the best, it's really windy and rainy right now. But I'll have to get used to that. The landscape on the other hand is very beautiful, I might have fallen in love with it when I first saw it from the airplane. There are so many lochs and green hills! ^^ Another thing that impresses me of Scotland is the friendliness and hospitality of the Scots. After growing up mainly with the cold and efficient Germans and the chaotic and indifferent Belgians, it's really refreshing to meet such nice people. They're very warm, laid back, cheery and curious. I need some time to get used to that, the Glaswegians are known for their friendliness and dry humour. It's funny how close to the Glaswegian spirit I've modelled my Scotland after, without even being completely aware of it. There aren't any traces here of the jackass, abusive, smoking and cold pixiv Scotland who has become so popular in the Hetalia fandom. My tiny little problem with the Scots is their accents, I absolutely love it but I can barely follow the heavy Glaswegian accent. Ah well, I've been told that in a few weeks time, I'll be able to follow it without a problem. Anyway, I have a feeling that I will love living in Scotland. Scotland rocks!

Alright, onwards to the chapter then! ^^

* * *

Chapter 35

It was early in the morning when Wales came to wake England up for the World Metting. The little nation groaned and rolled over, wanting to stay in the warm covers just a bit longer. The nights had been becoming longer and colder, and England was unwilling to leave his warm bed.

"Come on England, you need to get up. Ireland will be here in a few minutes and you two will need to leave right after that." Wales sighed as he re-entered England's room for the third time. England stayed silent, hoping that Wales would leave him alone again.

Someone started pulling at the covers and England let out a protest of surprise. He grabbed the covers to stop Wales from pulling them completely off of him. "England, you either get up now or I will make you!" His brother said sternly.

"Okay, okay…" England grumbled as he kicked the covers off of him and got out of bed. He stood barefoot on the ground and crossed his arms, shivering as the sudden rush cold air hit him and he stared at Wales resentfully.

Wales seemed unperturbed by the glance and smiled in satisfaction, "See, that was not so difficult… hey, did you grow a little again?" The elder nation blinked in surprise as he looked at England up and down.

England looked down at himself but didn't see much difference. But then he turned his attention to the sleeves of his pyjama and saw that it did look shorter. He was going to outgrow this pyjama soon enough. He was starting to outgrow his clothes more and more.

A doorbell rang faintly, informing both nations that Ireland had arrived. Wales turned to get the door, but before he left the room, he looked back at England and said, "Alright, get changed into your clothes and before you leave the room, take your backpack with you."

The Brit nodded mutely and quickly changed into his clothes, shivering at the cold. Damn the cold! What he wouldn't give to stay in his warm bed! But he had to go to this World Meeting and since India was quite a long way from home, England and Ireland would be staying in a hotel room for the duration of the World Meeting.

Once he had changed into his clothes, England grabbed his backpack and walked out of his room and down the stairs. At first he was unsure where his brothers were, but then he heard voices coming from the kitchen and he oriented himself towards those voices. When he entered the kitchen, he was greeted by a snickering Ireland, "Hey Sasana, I heard you had some trouble getting out of bed today!"

"Well, it was cold after all." England huffed as he turned to face Ireland and Wales, who were both sitting at the kitchen table. The island nation crossed his arms over his chest defensively.

Ireland shook his head in amusement and snorted, "Don't you think I didn't have the same problem as you had not a long time ago? However we have quite a way to travel and it is best if we set out early."

Looking at his watch Ireland stated, "Actually, we better start now if we want to arrive on time for the meeting. We will have to nation-hop to a few countries at short distances at first so that we can see how good your nation-hopping has become. We can increase the distances if you can follow well enough. He… is able to nation-hop accurately, right Breatain Beag?"

Wales nodded, "I practiced with him recently, his nation-hopping skills are rusty but decent at best. He shouldn't have a problem following you."

"Can you not talk of me as if I'm not here?" England sighed a bit, disliking the feeling of being talked about as if he was a vegetable. It reminded him a bit too much about the treatment he had received a mere few months ago where the others were always discussing how much he was progressing and what he had regained while he was still present.

"Ach, no harm was meant Sasana." Ireland rolled his eyes and stood up. "Shall we go?"

England nodded while Wales stood up to follow them to the door. Before they left, Wales called loudly after England, "Remember England, concentrate on the whole picture, not on a specific object. And don't land in any trees!"

The Brit stopped abruptly and turned around to protest but Wales had already closed the door, terminating any chance for England to save face. England sighed and turned to walk after Ireland. The elder brother had stopped to look at the closed door and he asked curiously, "What did he mean about you not landing in trees?"

"N-nothing!" England quickly answered, averting his gaze in embarrassment.

"Oh, you mean you actually landed in a tree?" Ireland burst out in laughter. England's face reddened and the smaller nation pouted.

"Can we just get on our way?" England demanded exasperatedly, nudging Ireland's leg with his elbow.

Ireland took a moment to calm himself down and then looked at England apologetically, "Sorry for that Sasana, but you're so easy to tease. You're reacting exactly the way you used to."

England sighed but let the subject drop. Maybe to stop his brothers from teasing him, he might just have to stop reacting to them so much. On hindsight, it kind of made sense why his brothers, Hong Kong and certainly others, liked teasing England. No sport could be gained from someone who didn't react to the prodding and teasing of the others, after all.

"Ceart go leor, here's our first location." Ireland dug out from his pocket a photo and handed it to England. England took the picture and studied it, making sure to concentrate on the whole image this time. It was the picture of a field with sunflowers and a windmill stood proudly against the horizon of the blue sky. England narrowed his eyes to make sure he had every aspect of the picture memorised. At least there weren't any trees to land in at that place.

"This place is somewhere in the south of Frainc. It's not a huge distance from here but we'll start small first, okay Sasana?" Ireland explained to the Brit, making sure England had heard him.

England looked up from the picture and nodded firmly. "Okay."

Ireland put the picture back into his pocket and started walking, quickly disappearing into the air. England took off after his brother shortly after, praying that he wouldn't land by extreme bad luck on the windmill. He only needed to achieve that and he would never able to live it down again.

* * *

They managed to reach the field of sunflowers without too much trouble, to England's relief. Ireland dug out from his pocket another picture and showed it to England wordlessly. England took the picture and once again, started scrutinizing this photo heavily. This time the picture was of majestic mountains that reached to the sky, snow decorating their peaks. On the foreground of the picture was a smaller hill with a small wooden house, surrounded by a dark imposing forest.

"This place is somewhere in Ostair." Ireland stated, taking the picture as England handed it back to him.

"Ohstur?" England asked in confusion, not recognizing the name of the nation.

"Um, Austria." Ireland explained, holding back his laughter at England's pronunciation.

"Why do you always feel the need to say the names of the nations in Irish?" England asked curiously, frowning a bit as he knew Ireland found his way of saying Austria's name in Irish amusing.

"Well, you know, gotta keep my language fresh. Plus I like saying the names of the nations in my language. Like you're called Sasana. It has a better ring for me."

"So what is the Irish version for…hmm, for example Japan, Italy, Germany, Russia and Norway?" England asked, just throwing out some random names he knew and was curious to know what they sounded like in Irish.

"Seapáin, Iodáil, Germáin, Rúis and Iorua." Ireland answered automatically.

England wrinkled his nose. "I think I prefer hearing them in English. They sound weird in your language."

The Irish nation shrugged, "You never liked my language too much and I've always found your language to be too rough. Wales even calls your language the "narrow language", not that it implies that those who speak it are narrow-minded, although that would be almost eerily appropriate… anyway, getting off track here, let's get a move on." After a moment of consideration, Ireland added with a laugh, "Hey, I bet I can get to the next place quicker than you Sasana."

The smaller nation turned around to look at Ireland in confusion, not fully understanding what Ireland wanted from him. He saw that Ireland was grinning widely and was already disappearing into thin air. England realized that Ireland had made an actual challenge and wanted to race the Brit to the next location.

England puffed his cheeks as determination kicked in and he broke into a quick run, disappearing too as he nation-hopped after Ireland. He was going to reach the place first!

And so Ireland made the journey into a kind of game for England, either to amuse himself or to tease England a bit when the Brit kept coming a few seconds later than Ireland to the designated location. They started moving quickly as they raced each other from land to land. Ireland still gave England pictures to aid with the nation-hopping but now allowed the smaller nation just 30 seconds to study the picture before the Irish nation started to disappear before England's eyes.

Though Ireland did have a strange sense of humour, England found himself appreciating the race between them. It made England determined to beat his elder brother and he seemed to get better at it with every time.

Soon they had crossed the whole of Europe and were now passing by Russia's home. England was now a bit glad that Wales had made him look through the world map several times, he had now quite a good idea of the distance they had travelled and he knew that Russia's lands were vast. He found himself wondering how many other countries they had to pass, they were now reaching a group of nations with the name "-stan" at the end of their names but England wasn't sure how many there were of these nations.

"Alright, now Úisbéiceastáin! …Which is Uzbekistan for you." Ireland handed England a picture of sandy hills with scrubby bushes dotting the bottom of them. England took a few seconds to scan the picture to memorize every single detail of it.

Just as Ireland was about to start nation-hopping, England took off running and quickly disappeared in thin air. The Brit was determined to reach Uzbekistan before Ireland and this time he was sure he was going to succeed.

His feet touched ground and he had the landscape of Uzbekistan in front of him, just like he had seen on the picture just a few seconds ago. England was filled with a euphoric feeling as he whirled around to see Ireland appear out of thin air, a few seconds AFTER him.

"YES!" England shouted happily, jumping in the air. "I did it, I came here faster than you! I beat you!" And suddenly…

-crash-

In his celebration England had failed to see a sneaky root from one of the bushes present a perfect opportunity for the smaller nation to trip over. England fell backwards and slid down the slope of a small hill he and Ireland had landed on.

England was wheezing slightly, falling on his back had knocked the breath out of him. He heard the boisterous laughter of Ireland overhead and the red-haired nation walked down the slope and appeared in England's field of vision, standing over the smaller nation with a wide grin.

"Next time deartháir, look around you before starting to celebrate, yeah?" Ireland chuckled in amusement. When England didn't respond or move, the Irish nation asked a bit worriedly, "Are you hurt Sasana?"

The Brit shook his head as he sat up, "Nah, but I'm a bit winded. Could we please rest for five minutes?"

Ireland looked at his watch and said, "I suppose, we're not too far away from India and we're good with time. We could spare 5 minutes." Ireland then sat cross-legged beside England.

After a few moments of silence, England asked, "So, our last stop is at India's place?" Ireland nodded affirmatively. England pondered for a few seconds before a question came to him. He turned to look at Ireland, curious how his elder brother was going to react.

"Ireland? I have a question… about my attempted suicide." England asked hesitantly. He saw Ireland tense in response to the subject England wanted to ask about.

Though he looked wary, Ireland finally sighed, "Ask away."

"I know from the fays that I swallowed poison but lately I've been wondering about… who found me after I swallowed the poison?"

Ireland smiled a bit nervously and admitted, "Well Sasana, that would be me."

"You?" England asked surprised. When he saw Ireland nod, England pressed, "What did you think when you first saw me?"

"I… assumed you were simply sick so I put you to bed and I called your brothers so that one of them could replace you. That day we were having a World Meeting and we needed someone to represent the Ríocht Aontaithe." Ireland shrugged his shoulders, trying to look non-chalant though England did spot a slight quaver in his voice. England assumed that by "Ríocht Aontaithe" Ireland meant "United Kingdom".

"But didn't you think that something was wrong? Or did I fall sick so often that it didn't seem odd to you?" England asked inquisitively.

"Well, the thing is, Sasana, you did fall very often sick. For some reason you've always been a sickly nation, you don't have the best immunity system in existence. And… well there were a few strange things, but I didn't give it much thought at first until later in the day. Such as… you wouldn't wake up. That really had us all worried."

"So you were all worried about me?" England asked carefully, unable to really wrap his head around the fact that so many people cared about him. And to think he believed that they all hated him or didn't care about him a few weeks ago.

Ireland smiled a bit, "When it was, quite literally, blurted out to the other nations, many of them were shocked beyond belief. Many couldn't believe that you of all people would try to kill yourself."

"How did America react?"

His brother fell silent as he thought back to that time, trying to remember. Ireland finally answered, "Meiriceá was actually quite silent. He didn't say anything at all. For most of the World Meeting he barely participated in the discussions. I would say he was extremely upset though he tried his best to hide it."

The Irish nation then turned to look at England curiously before asking, "What's bringing on all of these morbid questions all of a sudden? You do also realize that you asked me more than a question."

England shrugged, "I'm just curious I guess…"

Ireland smirked knowingly at England before gazing at his watch. "Well, our five minutes are almost up. We better get to India's place now." As both nations stood up, Ireland handed to England the last picture of the journey. The picture showed an empty street with tall apartment buildings, almost blocking the sky from view. There seemed to be thousands of cables running high between the buildings on both sides of the narrow, littered street.

"This is a mostly empty street which makes it ideal for us to nation-hop without surprising too many humans, if any at all. And it's close to where the World Meeting is held, it would just be a few minutes walk from the street. An additional bonus is that the hotel where we're staying is also nearby." Ireland explained while England studied the picture.

After a moment England heard Ireland say mischievously, "So, up for a last race?"

England looked up from his picture and returned a similar playful smile, "Okay, but we start at the same time now. And we do the countdown together."

Ireland rolled his eyes, "Ceart go leor, ceart go leor."

The smaller nation pocketed the picture before turning to face Ireland, ensuring his brother wasn't going to cheat. "Alright, so here we go. From the mark,"

"Get set," Ireland continued with a grin.

"GO!" Both nations shouted at the same time before nation-hopping away.

* * *

And thus Ireland and England arrived to the meeting just in the nick of time. The moral England had learned from this was not to trust Ireland with maps. At least not with Indian maps, England really couldn't understand how Ireland had managed to get them lost in the streets of New Delhi when they had asked for directions from the locals so often. Ah well, at least they had made it on time.

"Hey Ireland! You didn't get lost again, did you?" A dark-skinned woman with black hair walked up to the two island nations, smiling widely as she seemed quite convinced that it had been indeed the case for the Irish nation.

Ireland shifted awkwardly but he swiftly said in his defence, "No, no, I just kind of got off track…but I didn't get lost. Not at all! It's just that you have such confusing streets India… but I didn't get lost!"

India laughed heartily at the flustered Ireland and then seemed to notice England who was beside the Irish nation. She bent down to get a better look at him before smiling friendly, "Hey England, glad you could make it too."

"Hello." England replied quietly, trying to remember who the female nation was. Ireland had called her India so she was the host of the current World Meeting. However England had a feeling there was more to her as well.

"I don't know how much you've remembered, but I'm India." India introduced herself, and then added as an afterthought, "I used to be a colony of yours."

England blinked in surprise, "You were?"

"Yep. Like America and Canada. Except I was a called a "crown colony" by you." India seemed to assume a mocking tone when she said "crown colony". She grinned, "Didn't stop me from fighting to get my independence as well."

"India, Sasana doesn't remember anything of that. Give him a break…" Ireland rolled his eyes and gave India a meaningful look. The Indian nation seemed to get down from her high horse and gave England a look-over.

She then cocked her head to one side and said calmly, "I hope you're a better England now."

"I'm nothing like the old England." England said stubbornly, getting a sinking feeling that his relationship with India hadn't been a very good one in the past. Why did nearly all his relationships with other nations seem so marred by misunderstandings and tensions?

India smiled encouragingly at England's response, "That's good to hear. The world could do without you being grumpy all the time." India chuckled lightly before straightening up and walking away from the two nations to go and talk with others.

England turned to look at Ireland and asked sceptically, "My relationship with her was also really bad, wasn't it?"

Ireland grimaced and shrugged his shoulders. "Ah well, she wanted her independence as well and you weren't too keen on letting her go at first. You often said she was your most prized colony and she really didn't appreciate being treated like a possession by you."

"Why do I get the feeling that the old England was a very disagreeable nation and fought with everyone?" England sighed in frustration.

"Firstly, you didn't fight with everyone. You did fight with many, but not with the whole world. Secondly, quit drawing a line between you and the past you. You only do it so that you don't have to deal with what your past self did." Ireland corrected sternly, starting to walk towards his seat as Germany started calling all the nations to order.

The Brit huffed in response, a bit stung by Ireland's tone. However the Irish nation was right, England didn't like admitting to himself that his past self and him were one and the same person. It was just so easy to not to want be associated with a person who apparently was not the nicest among the nations.

England walked to his place beside Ireland and clambered onto the seat, staring out at the vast table and the number of nations seated around it. He got quite a few inquisitive and curious stares from the other nations, he did stand out as the oddball with his size and a simple T-shirt instead of a suit with a tie. (Wales and he hadn't thought about the latter and when they did it was a bit too late)

He turned his attention to Germany as the stern nation resorted to yelling to shut up the more gossipy nations so that the World Meeting could finally officially begin. England leaned forward to listen sharply at what the nations were going to talk about.

Sadly it quickly became clear why some of the nations didn't like the World Meetings too much. England quickly found himself becoming bored, not interested in what the current nation was blabbering about.

God this was going to be a boring meeting.

* * *

It really didn't take America long to spot England during the meeting. The Brit obviously stood out the most from all of the nations, America didn't even have to go into find-nation-with-huge-eyebrows mode to find England. He was the smallest of all the nations and the white T-shirt he wore just made it so much easier for America to spot. They also sat towards the same corner of the table. (if you could say that a round table had corners. They had decided since the conception of the World Meeting to have a round table to promote equality between all nations) Well they weren't sitting exactly near each other. America was still able to face England from where he sat.

America was amused to see that England wasn't even attempting at all to mask his boredom. Most nations around him and America himself were bored beyond doubt by the speech of the current nation (what was his name again?), but the normal England always made a point of looking as if he is attempting to pay attention. This England had not yet developed this tendency of hiding behind his mask and pretending. America liked that somehow.

As the droning continued, America's mind was starting to wander to other places. He silently thought over the revelation that had come to him in his discussion with Canada just a few days ago. Was it really possible that America had started to fall in love with England all this time? America did remember having those strange feelings sometime towards the end of WWI but he really became aware of them during WWII. But he had brushed them aside, unnerved by them because he didn't understand their nature.

And these weird feelings had come back when he heard that England had tried to commit suicide. He knew he cared about England, but never to this degree. America had been quite surprised by himself that he was so upset about England's attempted suicicde. Maybe he really was in love with the Brit…

But what amazed America the most was the possibility that England had actually had feelings for him too. But England hadn't had the courage to accept his feelings and he had never attempted to admit them to America.

Now the big question was whether England was really going to remember his love for America or not. The American really hoped it would, but what if it didn't? America was nervous to consider this scenario.

Casting another look at England, America was surprised to see that the Brit was staring in front of him blankly, his green eyes unfocussed. Upon closer inspection America realized what was going on.

_Oh no… _America thought silently. Seemed like England was reliving a memory right now. In the middle of a meeting. Honestly, his memories really knew how to come at the worst moments possible. America wondered idly if he would be able to see the memory if he took England's hand again. It had worked last time though America could not explain why. America also wondered if he really wanted to see England's memory. Maybe it was a bad one again. America wasn't sure he wanted to uncover another dark secret that England had possibly kept from the American. The revolution memory had been bad enough for America.

He was still curious though about what England was seeing in his memories. England still looked unfocused, the strange shadows in his eyes swirling softly. America gazed at England shortly before attempting to steer his attention back towards the meeting.

America seriously was considering banging his head on the table out of utter boredom.

* * *

"_Wait, so you're saying there's really a big creature in this lake?" Albion asked excitedly, staring at the large expanse of water with great interest. He scanned the water sharply, hoping to spot the elusive creature._

"_Yeah, but it's a mighty shy creature, even though it's probably the biggest creature I've ever seen. Well… except for Cymru's dragons, but otherwise it beats everything else." Alba appeared beside Albion, he too staring at the water._

_Albion nimbly hopped to another rock, hoping to get a better view of the lake. Both avatars were at the rocky shoreline of the lake, they had climbed to a more elevated ground where the rocks were bigger and water depths deeper. At this end of the lake, the water was so deep that you couldn't see the bottom._

_There was only blackness._

"_Does the creature have a name? What kind is it?" Albion asked inquisitively, turning his head to look at the red-haired avatar. Alba shrugged, seemingly disinterested._

"_No clue about what kind of creature it is. It seems to have been here for a long while, who knows where it could have come from. But I like to nickname the creature Nessie."_

"_Nessie?" Albion sounded confused by the choice of name. _

"_Since this is Loch Ness, it would be logical for the creature living in it to be called Nessie." Alba answered simply as he stepped onto the rock where Albion currently was. The younger avatar had narrowed his eyes as he tried to see some sign of Nessie._

"_Where is it? Can you call it to us?" England asked hesitantly, turning his head to look at Alba. _

_Alba quirked an incredulous eyebrow at the smaller avatar, as if he couldn't believe his ears. He asked in disbelief, "Do you really think Nessie is some pet I can call? I can't control it, it even decides for itself who it likes. It tried biting Ireland's arm off last time I saw it."_

_Albion sighed sadly as he looked out towards the lake again. "I wish I could see it." Albion murmured softly. _

"_Well, there is a way of seeing it." Alba said lowly, the tone of his voice sounding suddenly malicious. It gave Albion goose bumps down his back. _

"_How can-" Albion began to ask before he suddenly felt Alba roughly push him forward. The little avatar gave a little cry as he teetered over the edge of the rock and fell down into the water. As he plunged into the freezing dark waters of the lake, panic flared up inside Albion's chest. He had no clue how to swim, he had never learned. Albion kicked out and flailed his arms, trying to somehow reach the surface. _

_But he was completely disoriented. He didn't even know from the amounts of bubbles around him where top and bottom was anymore. Albion was really getting frightened and he opened his mouth to yell for help. _

_Water entered his mouth and Albion hacked and coughed as the water filled his lungs. He blindly reached out for whatever he could get his grip on, for anything at all that might aid him to pull himself out of the water._

_He felt himself sinking and Albion felt the numbing cold take over his muscles. No matter how much he struggled, the avatar just felt himself more and more drained of energy. Soon he was unable to muster enough energy to try and reach for the surface again._

_Albion felt heavier and number, the last bubbles of air escaping from his throat. The young avatar was suffocating. He was starting to feel light-headed and dizzy, his world was starting to darken…_

* * *

America wondered idly how long the meeting had been going on. Hours? He really wished he hadn't forgotten to take his watch with him. He really wanted to have a break soon! America looked around him, bored beyond his mind. Germany was now carrying his speech out, which truthfully held nothing of interest for America. He barely registered the words the German nation was saying. America had presented his speech a while ago and of course the first signs of fighting were starting to appear among the nations because as usual, no one agreed with America's awesome ideas on how to save the world.

However this time, Germany had come fully prepared and when the voices of the nations started to become louder, he had suddenly sprang up and had yelled that if a fight broke out, he would be forced to prolong the meeting and their lunch time would be significantly shorter. Everyone had promptly shut up at that, no one wanting to be the cause why the meeting should be prolonged more than necessary. What surprised America was that he seemed to be the only nation aware of England's reactions, or lack thereof.

England still looked unfocused, except his eyelids seemed to get progressively lower. Was England falling asleep? America was beginning to get worried, England seemed to have stayed in the memory phase an awful long time. What memory could England be having that was so damn long?

America looked over to England again, trying to see if any change had come to the Brit. England's head had lowered to the table, the arms around his head in an attempt to cushion it. England's eyes were now fully closed, but America was still doubtful whether England was truly asleep or still in his memory phase.

As the minutes passed, America grew aware of a few oddities with England.

Firstly he thought that England's breathing was abnormal. It was too slow. Okay, he wasn't a doctor but it didn't take a genius to figure out that England was breathing too slowly, even if he was deeply asleep.

Secondly, either there was something weird going on with the lights or he was going crazy from boredom, but he was getting the impression that England's hair looked flatter, damper. The room was air-conditioned and America felt pretty normal, so it had nothing to do with the room's temperature.

America wondered if maybe England was suffering from a fever that made his body heat go too high. But would sweating really have caused England's hair to become so wet? America looked at the Brit closer and he saw before his own eyes how England's hair became progressively damper.

He was definitely convinced that it wasn't just him when he saw a few errant droplets trickle from England's hair down his forehead and nose. Something weird was going on and America was at loss at what he should say. It was amazing how England's neighbours remained completely unaware of what was going on. Even Ireland was doodling on his papers in boredom, fully blind to the growing oddities of his little brother.

The American felt someone nudge his side softly. He turned his head to look at his own brother who was looking at him disapprovingly.

"Can you at least pretend you're paying attention to the meeting?" Canada whispered quietly, looking quite irritated that America was once again not paying attention. America blinked a few times before nodding over to England.

"Something weird is happening to England." America whispered back, turning to gaze back at England. Canada followed his gaze and after a few moments America felt Canada tense up beside him. Seemed like the Canadian had spotted the oddities as well. America was partly satisfied from the fact that he had proven this time that his lack of attention to the meeting was justified.

America then noticed that the rate of England's breathing changed abruptly. It started speeding up, as if England was not getting enough oxygen into his system. He looked like he was about to have a fit. America was seriously considering raising the alarms because this was definitely not good.

But before America could reach a decision, he saw England shift. The Brit raised his head slowly, his eyes opening and becoming wider by the second. America noticed that England's chin was wet, at first America mistook it for drool but he quickly realized that it was water that was dribbling down England's chin.

England's body went rigid and the island nation clapped a hand on his mouth, his face becoming ghostly pale. His whole body shivered violently and then England made a horrible choking noise that made America's blood run cold.

Suddenly water was pouring out from behind England's hand and before he could stop himself, England retched and more water gushed out of his mouth. The whole meeting fell silent as the nations turned to look what was happening. Many of them looked worried or confused by what was happening.

England choked and retched at the amount of water that was pouring out of his mouth and he fell from his chair, convulsing wildly on the floor.

Some nations stood up in panic and alarm as it dawned upon all of them that England was in serious trouble.

He was drowning.

* * *

**A/N**

Go on, kick me. :) Me and my bloody cliff-hangers again. Hey, how do you think J.K Rowling and Dan Brown became such popular authors? Certainly not by writing rainbows and kittens, believe me. Anyway, now there are a few keypoints I want to expand on.

The comment that Ireland made about Wales calling England's language "narrow"? That's true, though I don't have the Welsh name for this right now. But the Welsh do consider English to be a "narrow language". How so? Not because of Ireland's given reason, that's just silly. The real reason is because we English-speakers don't use our full potential of our mouth muscles to pronounce words. We actually use a limited amount. My father can speak the Welsh language and he had me attempt to pronounce words and sentences in Welsh. Believe me, after 10 minutes of that, muscles I didn't even know they existed were sore. Yeah, the Welsh language is difficult in the sense that you have to pronounce certain words that is almost impossible for us since we're not used to it. Too much of a mouthful! X_X One comedian said that the Welsh language was clearly invented by a dad losing at Scrabble. XD If you wanna see the video where the comedian says that, look up on youtube "Jimmy Carr Welsh Language" and click on the first video. While you're at it, also look up the video "Who says the Welsh aren't funny...". That video will have you laughing so hard! XD

Hopefully I got India's characterisation right, I know that some of you were looking forward to her appearance. She will appear a bit more in the next chapter hopefully, she appears to me like a very fiery and proud character. I had to talk about her decolonisation and the consequences of that in my oral history exam and I managed a 90% score because I messed up the first part of my exam when I had to talk about the development of the EU. ( I was more interested in the decolonisation of colonies, which is why I did better in the second part of the exam. Honestly, who else knows about what currency existed before the euro WITHOUT looking that up?) I think not many people seem to realise that the colony British India would actually have to be a group of five avatars rather than one. British India was split into India, Pakistan, Myanmar, Sri Lanka and Bangladesh. I failed to mention that last chapter, but one of the photos where I described England sitting between two boys and three girls, that was British India. The eldest girl is India, the eldest boy is Pakistan, the other boy is Bangladesh, the two remaining girls are Sri Lanka (Ceylon) and Myanmar (Burma).

Now, to the memory. Most of us know by now that England isn't able to swim. Of course when that canon idea was added to England's character, I immediately asked myself, "Why can't England swim?" My first answer was sadly a traumatic experience. Technically we are all born with the ability to swim. Some pregnant women give birth to their babies in water and the baby can swim. (not like a pro, but well enough) I was able to swim at 3 weeks old, my parents brought me to a baby pool and they were quite shocked how quickly I started to swim without their support. We have the instinct, but if we're not introduced to water early enough, we learn to fear it (or we feel instead apprehension) and fear is exactly what hampers adults later in life to actually learn how to swim. England is surrounded by water, so logically he should have been able to learn how to swim early on. But he never did, so we have to assume that he's afraid of water and that could only have come from a bad childhood experience. And since the memory is traumatic on a personal level, the "scars" of the event manifest themselves a lot more physically than in other memories. Poor England, I feel bad for making him suffer that... you'll see what happens next chapter. (don't panic guys, England didn't drown in the memory so he probably won't drown this time around)

Before I go, I have a announcement to make regarding one of the other fanfictions I'm considering on writing. I was surprised by how much support "My Green-Eyed Disease" got, I think it got more requests on being written than the others. To be honest, I don't feel the story anymore. I created the plot in a time where I was still actively reading fanfictions and it happened that three of my favorite fanfictions got to a crisis point in their stories where England was turned into the jackass who caused the whole problem. It really annoyed and angered me to get three different chapters at once where England was being made the bad guy and the story "My Green-Eyed Disease" was formed where I wanted to push the label "bad guy" on someone else. So, pretty much a vengeance fanfic. Months have passed since I first formed the plot, months have passed since I've stopped reading fanfictions because I got fed up with all the negative emotions. ("BFFF" drove me almost mad, I'm not touching the sequel with a ten feet pole, the emotions packed in that story made me really sick at heart) My general rule is to only concentrate on one fanfic at the time, which I have mostly managed. But now, looking back at the story "My Green-Eyed Disease", I realize that the fuel that should spur me to write the story is absent. There is nothing, I don't want to write the story. However... I watched a video and I got a new component, a missing component that might just make me want to write a replacement for the dead story. The title is too cool to give away... so I will pick the title up and write a different plot to it. I hope you guys don't mind the changement.

See ya next time! ^^


	36. Chapter 36

Edit: I've removed the original paragraph here because I've made my stand, the anon probably saw this, and I don't see the need of keeping this paragraph up anymore. Apparently I wasn't completely cooled down, I can still read a hint of anger in my words. I just wanted to make some things clear because sometimes I feel people assume too quickly and are quick to judge something. In my opinion, you shouldn't judge a book until you've finished reading it. But I thank the readers who have supported me, it really means a great deal to me. Thank you. :)

On to other news, totally loving Scotland and university! Honestly, I don't know why I was so worked up about uni up until now... it's great! I even took an extra course on Celtic Civilization! Hello potentially new headcanons for the Celtic nations! ^^ (hey, did you guys know that Gaul doesn't actually mean just France? In classical terms, Gaul was used to refer to France, the Lowlands, Switzerland, South Germany and North Italy all together.)

Alright, on we go to the continuation of the story! :D (**WARNING! Violence, blood and character death at the end of the chapter!)**

* * *

Chapter 36

Without even pausing for thought, America rose from his chair and immediately rushed over to the fallen Brit. Ireland was already beside England and was trying to turnhis head to the side so that England would not choke on the water that was flowing out of him.

England writhed on the ground, his eyes wide with fear and panic. But the shadows within his eyes remained, showing that England was still not out of his memory. His limbs jerked frantically as his body twisted around to expel the water from within him. He looked like he was drowning with the water that was blocking his airways, not allowing him to get any oxygen into his system. He was in genuine danger of asphyxiation.

America went down on his knees in front of England and looked at Ireland in panic. "How can we help England?" He asked anxiously.

"We have to make sure that none of the water falls back and gets to his lungs. In this position the water will only too easily flow back into him, but he won't hold still." Ireland said in a distressed tone, trying to turn England's head to the side and keep it in that position. But England's convulsions made it difficult to keep his head on the side for long.

"Attempt the Heimlich Maneuver, it might help him." Germany shouted over the din the nations were making, many of them panicking at the sight of England throwing up so much water. Where was all the water coming from?

"No, that will not help England!" China argued, quickly making his way over to Ireland and America. He sat on his knees beside the two nations and hurriedly explained to Ireland, "We have no knowledge of where the water is coming from but we have to make sure he doesn't choke on it. Try getting England to sit on his knees and slightly bend his head forward so that he will be able to get the water out of him."

Ireland looked unsure by the instructions but only nodded uncertainly, moving closer to his brother who was still writhing wildly and the Irish nation attempted to sit him up on his knees. Though England struggled quite a bit, Ireland eventually managed and gently bent England's head down, helping England with coughing the water out.

America, feeling a bit superfluous, shifted closer to England and slowly reached out to take his hand carefully. England immediately responded by tightening his grip on America's hand almost painfully. America winced but didn't complain about it, England was in a worse situation than he was, after all.

"America, you shouldn't interfere…" China warned disapprovingly but was stopped by Ireland who was shaking his head.

"No, I think it's helping Sasana a bit. He needs the comfort." Ireland briefly looked up at America to lock gaze with the superpower, and then sank his eyes to look at England worriedly.

After a few more seconds of England coughing out more water, the flow finally seemed to lessen and the smaller nation choked out the last few droplets. After gasping and breathing raggedly for a moment, the Brit suddenly collapsed. Luckily America caught England as he fell towards the American.

America carefully turned England onto his back. China leaned forward to inspect England closely and the nations of the room gathered around them curiously, now that the apparent crisis was over.

Of course after a minute of hushed silence, many nations started loudly asking questions and demanding answers to what had just transpired here. Many expressed worry about what had happened to England and America's ears were seriously starting to ring from all the questions being asked at the same time.

"Calm down everyone! One question at the time, I can't understand anything from any of you right now!" Ireland tried to yell over the din, but his voice was lost among the dozens of other voices. He and America looked at the other nations helplessly, not knowing how to put an end to the chaos.

India pushed her way through the crowd and stepped into the inner circle, turning around to face the other nations fiercely. "Nations, stop crowding and stand back! England needs some space to breath." India snapped, effectively shutting up the nations and causing a majority of them to take a wary step back from the irate female nation. She turned around to look at America and Ireland and the Irish nation shot her a grateful glance. India just nodded and took a step away from them, looking just as curious as the rest.

Ireland took a deep breath to calm himself down and looked at England, his brow furrowed in worry.

"What memory is it?" America asked curiously, seeing from England's eyes that the Brit was still at this point in the memory phase. At least his breathing had gone back to normal and the water that had previously come from England was starting to quickly evaporate into thin air, as if it had never existed.

China was looking surprised and confused by America's words, "A memory? What is America talking about? Was what England suffered a memory?" He looked from America to Ireland, expecting answers from either of them. The other nations seemed to lean forward slightly, all intrigued to hear the answer to China's questions.

Staring at the mass of nations, Ireland sighed and replied reluctantly, "Yes, Sasana is currently re-experiencing a memory, he's stuck in the memory phase right now. It's a personal memory, one that has probably had traumatic effects on Sasana. I'm worried about his reaction to it now…" Ireland bit his lower lip nervously. He truly look uncomfortable, he certainly knew what the memory was about.

America looked at England silently, observing the dark shadows in England's glazed eyes. He took England's limp body into his arms and stood up carefully, carrying England with him. America turned towards the double doors of the meeting and started walking towards the exit. The surrounding nations stood back further to let America pass.

"Meiricéa?"

The American turned around to look at a perplexed Ireland and flashed him a heroic grin, "I'm just bringing him out of the meeting. England definitely needs to wake up in a calmer place and he will probably not be up to returning to the meeting anytime soon today."

Ireland blinked a few times before standing up as well and muttering, "I'll come with you then."

Just as it seemed as if a few nations were going to protest or even suggest that they come along too (since this was far more interesting than the meeting), Germany clapped his hands together to get the attention of the others. "Alright, everyone else return to their seats. We still have a meeting to continue. I'm certain that either Ireland or America will be willing to fill us in later on when they have ensured that England will be alright."

The gathered nations groaned in annoyance and disappointment but they reluctantly returned to their places, seeing as they had no other choice in the matter. Both America and Ireland made their way out of the meeting, America still holding England's small body securely. It was odd how pliant and limp England was. It was almost scary for the American.

Once they were out of the meeting, America looked around for a place where he could put England down. He saw not far from the nations a few green armchairs. England began to tremble slightly at that moment, though the water was fully evaporated, he had still become cold.

"I think England needs to be warmed up." America commented, looking down at the shivering Brit and holding England closer to his chest, in the hopes that America's body heat would help him a bit.

Ireland stared at England wordlessly before nodding, "Ceart go leor, I'll go look for a towel or something." He walked down the hall and disappeared around the corner. America walked over to the armchairs and placed England gently on one of them. He sat on another armchair and looked at England carefully.

England was still shivering and was looking a bit pale in the face. His eyes were still unfocused. America wondered what memory England could be possibly be remembering. A personal memory where it seems like England was drowning? America never heard of any mention of that memory…

Wasn't England supposed to have been a very feared pirate and had ruled the seven seas with an iron fist in the past? Surely a guy like that never got close to ever drowning, right? Pirates simply couldn't drown, that was unthinkable!

Ireland returned after a few minutes, carrying in his arms a few dark green towels. He walked over to England and wrapped the towel around the shivering nation.

America asked after a moment of silence, "So, can you tell me more about this memory? I never heard of a time where England came close to drowning, but from what I've seen, it must have happened at some point in the past. What happened?"

Ireland sighed and straightened up, turning his head to look at the American warily. "It happened… a very long time, long before you came along. It's… an old story."

"I don't mind old stories. I want to know what happened." America insisted, not wanting to let go of the subject. He wasn't going to give Ireland any opportunity to slip out of this situation, he knew what had happened to England and America wanted to know too.

Seeing the determination to get answers in America's eyes, Ireland exhaled slowly and scratched his head uncertainly. Finally he replied, "Alba… how to put this in a more positive light… ach, there isn't anything positive to be said here… well, Alba almost drowned Sasana when he was young."

"Al-bah? Oh, by Alba you mean Scotland… wait, wait, Scotland?" America asked disbelievingly, "He seriously tried drowning England?"

"He wanted to tease England when he pushed him into the water. Alba hadn't expected that Sasana didn't know how to swim but he waited for a few minutes to see how Sasana would get out of this situation. When he didn't resurface, Alba went to fish him out." Ireland explained, looking at England and frowning slightly as he remembered the story Scotland had recounted to him many centuries ago. Back then, Ireland had thought that the story had been hilarious, but now… there wasn't anything funny about this.

"England didn't know how to swim back then?" America asked surprised, having assumed that England instinctively knew how to swim. Being an island nation surrounded by water, it made a lot of sense for America to think that England had always known how to swim.

"No, and… he never learned to swim."

Now America was staring dumbfounded at Ireland. England… never learned to swim. But that didn't make sense at all! "But how can that be? England was a pirate and probably had one of the best Navy in history! And he's an island nation as well, he's been always surrounded by water. How can a nation like him not know how to swim?" America demanded, unable to believe that England didn't know how to swim.

"Well in the old days, most pirates, if not all, never learnt how to swim so that in the event that their ship sunk, they died more quickly. Anyway, Sasana hadn't learned how to swim before Alba had pushed him into the lake and he probably never found the courage to learn to swim after that. I'm sure the incident left a mark on Sasana."

"You bet it left a mark on him, I can't help but wonder how England didn't grow up to be completely psychopathic after all the things you guys put him through." America scoffed, casting a side glance at England. Nope, still in his memory phase. He wasn't shivering as much but the Brit still looked unnaturally pale.

The Irish nation seemed to bristle at America's snide tone and said tersely, "I know there are many things we shouldn't have done to Sasana and we could have made his life easier, but we gave him the building blocks to become a strong nation. Without them, England might have never become the nation he is today."

"Yeah, but to what price?" America sighed and looked at Ireland a bit sadly.

Ireland blinked a couple of times before replying evenly, "For one thing, you would have probably grown up as a French colony and you would have spoken French as your main language. And most of Europe would be talking in French now as well. Not that I think that this is an improvement, but at least we're not being terrorized by the incomprehensible French grammar."

America shuddered at the image. Him, one of France's colonies? No way in hell could that have gone well! And imagine a French-dominated Europe? And a whole world having French as the international language instead of English? The horrors, the horrors…

After a moment of silence, Ireland stood up, looking uncertain. "If I remember what Alba told me of the lake incident, this was pretty much the time when England started hating us and wanted to desperately show how strong he was, even using force on us. If that's the case, I believe I better not be around when Sasana wakes up, I don't want him reacting badly to me. At least I think I should give him some time to calm down from the memory…"

"So you're going back to the meeting?" America asked inquisitively, looking at Ireland in surprise.

"I don't really have a choice, do I?" Ireland shrugged, "Anyway, at least one of us should return and answer the questions of the other nations. Or they'll never let us off. Might as well tackle the questions now rather than later."

"I'll stay here with England then, to make sure he's alright and all when he wakes up. It's a hero's duty to do so." America grinned widely at the Irish nation. Ireland shook his head in amusement and turned to go.

America was struck by a question and called out after Ireland, "Hey, I have one question!"

Ireland stopped and looked around at America. "Yes?"

"Back at England's house, when I grabbed England's hand I managed to see his memory. This time when I grabbed England's hand, nothing happened. How come?"

At that Ireland looked thoughtful, the nation scratching his chin in thought. He finally explained, "Sasana may have possibly summoned a physical telepathic potential by accident, meaning that anyone who touched him for an extended period of time would be immediately given access to his mind. The potential is usually the strongest in the hands, hence why you were able to access England's memory so quickly when you took his hand. However this time, Sasana was probably too distressed by the memory to summon anything that would require energy and could jeopardize even more his life."

The American had to admit that he was surprised by the lengthy explanation. "…that sounds very technical. How come you make this magic business sound so complicated?"

"Because it is. Magic is far from being easy, it takes many years to be able to cast spells without causing an accident. A lot of people have too easily lost their lives because they believed that they could control magic." Ireland laughed lowly at that.

"Yeah, but you're not really good at magic either. I haven't forgotten the fiasco from the last time you used magic." America grinned widely.

The Irish nation pouted at that and crossed his arms, "Hey, they were just simple mistakes. My abilities are at the very least average, I am able to cast spells without much trouble. It's just that the results often aren't the ones I expect."

"But wait… does that mean I won't be able to see England's memory if I take his hand now?" America suddenly asked curiously.

"Don't think so, since Sasana is no longer in distress. He may have calmed down now, but I'm not sure if that means he has summoned the potential again…" Ireland replied uncertainly, but then he just shrugged and turned to return to the meeting. Before re-entering the meeting, he looked at America seriously and said, "Please take good care of Sasana."

"Will do!" America quipped, not catching the hidden message between the Irishman's words. How could he know that Ireland wasn't just referring to the time England would awaken from his memory but also beyond? How could America catch the silent approval Ireland was giving him about his developing relationship with England?

But that's oblivious America for you. You can't get more oblivious than him.

Once Ireland had returned to the meeting, America turned his head to cast another worried glance at England. England still showed no signs of getting out of his memory phase and he _still _was shivering.

Oh seriously, he wasn't just going to sit there and allow England to freeze! That's not what heroes did! America got up from his chair and walked over to England. Being careful not to jostle the smaller nation, America picked England up carefully and sat down on the armchair with the Brit in his arms.

There, now America's body heat should be enough to stop England's shivering! That's also when America really noticed that England had grown. America blinked in surprise at that realization. Yup, England had lost a little of the chubbiness a child normally has and his limbs had definitely lengthened. Well, it was a relief for America to see that England had finally started to grow.

England had stopped shivering and exhaled slowly, his eyelids lowering slightly. America smiled gently and pulled England closer to him. He curiously took England's small hand into his own but when nothing happened, America had to assume that England hadn't summoned… whatever had caused America to see England's memory the first time.

He hoped England would get out of the memory phase soon. America would be there to comfort the little nation, to tell him that everything was alright. To tell him that America was there for him. No matter what.

America blinked in surprise at his own thoughts. He laughed under his breath a bit uncertainly. "I really must be in love with England."

And he embraced this truth with no hesitation anymore.

Just then, America felt the familiar feeling of having the ground drop from under him. America blinked in surprise, confused. He realized that he hadn't let go of England's hand at all… oh crap, he was getting dragged into England's memory!

* * *

_Numbness. That was all that Albion could feel. Cold numbness that invaded his bones, making him unable to struggle anymore. His chest felt heavy and the lack of oxygen was making Albion dizzy._

_Albion slowly looked upwards towards what he presumed was the surface. If only he could reach it, the surface was so close and yet it seemed far beyond his grasp. England really didn't want to end his life like this, drowning like some pitiful puppy. _

_But he couldn't move… and he couldn't breathe either. Darkness was starting to claim his mind and his eyes rolled back as he lost his consciousness. Before his vision turned completely black, Albion faintly heard a small splash. But it was just a small splash, it hardly registered in Albion's mind._

_He felt something thin and hard bump against his fingers a few times. He then felt the strange object brush against his hand a few times. For some inexplicable reason, Albion felt a surge of energy ignite within him and he moved his hands to firmly grasp the object. It felt wooden to him… a handle of a spear perhaps?_

_Albion was suddenly hoisted towards the surface and broke through the water, the young avatar still clinging to the object tightly. He was lifted into the air and then placed on the rock. Albion immediately started coughing up all the water that had entered his body, his body convulsing as he tried to retch the water out._

_The moment the water was gone, Albion gasped and choked, trying to refill his lungs with oxygen. He breathed in and out rapidly, feeling the air rush down his throat almost painfully. He took several deep breaths before he felt his heartbeat return to normal._

"_Pfff, was that really all that you had to offer?" A voice scoffed behind Albion. _

_The smaller avatar stiffened and turned his head around warily to see Alba crouching not far from him, grinning widely and his green eyes alight with malice. Beside him was his axe, the end of it dripping wet. Ah, he had pulled Albion out with that then._

"_I mean, I expected a bit more of a struggle. You barely lasted a few seconds before sinking like a rock. Seriously, what kind of avatar are you if you give up so easily?" Alba let out a bark of laughter, seeming immensely amused. _

"_I… I…. c-can't s-s-swim!" Albion stuttered out, starting to shiver from the cold. His wet clothes clung to his skin and the harsh wind that was blowing certainly wasn't helping matters._

"_So what? That does not excuse the lack of struggle you put up. If you hadn't grabbed my axe down there, I would have assumed that you didn't want to live and I would have been inclined to leave you down there." Alba frowned and reached out to flick England's wet hair in annoyance. "And stop being so honest. Really, if an enemy heard that from you, he would know your weakness and imagine the possibilities of torture he could put you through?"_

_Albion visibly shuddered, though he was not sure if it was because of the cold or the actual fear of being put through this situation again. Anger flared up within his chest and he glared at Alba icily. "Why did you push me in the water?" Albion ground out angrily, slowly feeling a burning sensation in his heart. It felt like his heart was being consumed by something dark._

"_Bored, I suppose." Alba shrugged, seemingly unaffected by Albion's glare. Then he added, "I also wanted to see how much you would struggle before going down. Which was a big disappointment of course."_

"_Why didn't you just leave me down there and drown?" Albion spat venomously, digging his nails in the hard ground. Angry tears were starting to pour down his cheeks, why was he always a disappointment to his brothers no matter how hard he tried?_

"_Well it wouldn't be praiseworthy, hmm? I mean, walking up to the other avatars and saying, "Hey, I just killed an avatar who was small, weak and was STILL not attached to a group of people." Doesn't really sound impressive to me." Alba laughed harshly at that._

"_Don't call me weak!" Albion bristled, the word itself painful to his ears. He was NOT weak! "And I will find my people, I'm sure of it!"_

"_Stop lying to yourself, you're probably nearing your third or fourth century and you still haven't become a true nation. It's starting to become a little late to stay hopeful. Maybe you're just one of those mistakes, you'll never become a nation." Alba leered, making Albion clench his fist tightly._

"_You… You… b-BASTARD!" Albion shouted as he struggled to his feet and stumbled over to Alba, intent on inflicting some kind of pain on his elder brother._

_Alba grinned and grabbed Albion's wrist, standing up while pulling the smaller avatar with him. Albion dangled uselessly, trying to get out of Alba's vice-like grip. "Really Albion? Attacking me without even a weapon? Your sense of survival is really deformed!" Alba tutted, flinging Albion away from him._

_Albion fell hard on the ground but quickly struggled to his feet, breathing shallowly. The seething rage inside his heart only continued to grow. He wanted to hurt Alba. Wanted to make him fall down to his knees, gasping in pain. He wanted… to break him._

_The little avatar was gritting his teeth together harshly, his green eyes ablaze with fury and hatred. He was going to prove to Alba, and also to Cymru and Éire and to the other damn bastards that HE was capable of becoming a true nation like them. He would become the strongest nation of them all and break them, forcing them to submit to his power. __**Make them suffer.**_

_The older avatar raised an eyebrow at the seething nation, not missing the hatred in Albion's eyes. Alba grinned, he was finally getting a reaction one would expect from a warrior, not from some weakling. Alba picked up a stone and quickly flung it towards Albion. _

_Albion's eyes flashed as he saw Alba's movements and he quickly dodged the stone. Enraged, Albion grabbed a sharp stone on the ground and flung it fiercely towards Alba. Alba, briefly surprised by Albion's quick and aggressive reaction, was unable to fully dodge the stone. It struck his cheek, cutting into the skin._

_Alba fell back a few steps, stunned by the impact. He reached with his hand to touch the cut on his cheek gingerly, feeling the warm blood seeping from the cut beneath his fingers. Alba's eyes darkened with anger as he looked up to gaze at the smaller avatar._

_Only to find that Albion was no longer where Alba had last seen him._

_He heard a twig snap and saw Albion in the distance, running as quickly as possible. Clever child, he knew how dangerous it was to anger the elder avatar. Especially if you were a smaller avatar who stood no chance in a fair fight against Alba._

_Alba smirked and wiped away the blood that was trickling down his cheek. He would certainly enjoy getting back at Albion for that strike._

* * *

_America looked around him, feeling quite lost. He had managed to land in England's memory but it felt like he hadn't… connected to it correctly. He could see where he was but the image kept flickering. America saw not too far from him two avatars, he assumed it was a younger Scotland and a younger England._

_From the looks of it, America had arrived about the time where Scotland pulled England out of the water. America tried to hear what they were saying but somehow the sound of their voices was not reaching him. The American pouted and resorted to looking closely at the expressions of the two other avatars, trying to guess from that what was being said._

_Not that it was difficult to make out what was being said more or less. Scotland seemed to be mocking England, and that seemed to enrage the Brit more and more. The smaller avatar looked almost scary with all that hatred in his eyes. _

_Then Scotland picked up a stone and flung it at England. America could only stare in shock, unable to believe that the ever-cheerful Scottish nation could have been so cruel in the past. But America was even more shocked when he saw England expertly dodge the stone and fling another stone at Scotland. This stone struck the elder avatar and cut his cheek._

_America shuddered slightly, he couldn't imagine how rough things must have been for England and for other nations to live like this. America had been taken in fairly early by England, so America didn't really have many memories from when he used to live outside in the wild. But America had no idea how many years England had spent living wildly._

_The image around him flickered again and America caught a fleeting glimpse of England fleeing from Scotland as quickly as possible, and the image disappeared abruptly into the darkness. America looked around in confusion and wondered where he should go. There was darkness everywhere, it kinda made the American feel almost claustrophobic. _

"_Leave me alone!" England's voice cried out. _

_America started and looked around, trying to locate where England's voice had come from. The Brit had sounded very distressed and it worried America. The North American nation searched in the darkness for a few minutes, scanning the impenetrable obscurity._

_He then saw in the distance England, who was sitting in a hunched position and holding his head in his hands tightly. His shoulders were shaking violently, as if the Brit was suppressing sobs or trembling in fear. _

_Anxious, America ran towards the small island nation. When he got nearer, he was hit by a wave of apprehension and unease. There was something wrong here, the atmosphere was weird. _

_As if… there was another presence. An unfriendly presence._

_The American turned his attention to England, who had not moved from his spot. England didn't even seem to notice that America was beside him. The small nation was shivering, a tiny whimper escaping from his throat._

"_England?" America asked worriedly, crouching down to gently nudge the British nation. _

_England seemed to jerk at the touch and he dug his nails deeper into his hair, starting to shake his head fiercely, "Leave me alone, leave me ALONE!" _

"_England, what's wrong? It's just me, America! You don't have to be scared! What's happening?" America asked insistently, shocked at England's reaction. What was going on with England? Why was he behaving so oddly? _

_When England didn't respond to America, the younger nation bent over and grasped England by his shoulders gently and tried to rouse him. The smaller nation started struggling, attempting to get out of America's grasp. _

_Frowning, America finally dragged the Brit towards him and pulled the squirming nation into a tight hug, not giving England any opportunity to break free. The Brit suddenly stopped struggling. At that very moment, England opened his eyes wide and stared upwards, his eyes were blank._

_But what worried America the most was the way the eyes were glowing. No eyes were supposed to glow like that, and yet England's were glowing a bright green. The island nation continued gazing emptily, even though America waved a wary hand in front of his face to try and get his attention._

_America hugged England tightly, whispering under his breath, "Please be okay England, please come back."_

_Suddenly he felt his body jerk and something went through him, causing the American to shiver in discomfort. He pulled away to look at England in confusion and saw the Brit's pupils contract slightly and focus on America. The glowing in his eyes decreased visibly._

_England murmured wearily, "Look up..."_

_Confused even more by the request, America looked upwards to see if there was something. The American froze with what stood towering over him. A dark silhouette had risen up behind America and was staring at him intently with those bright green eyes. The form grinned widely and its eyes brightened with the glint of insanity._

_America jumped away from his spot and whirled around to face this form, demanding loudly, "Who the heck… what the heck are you?" He held England securely in his arms, he wasn't letting that creepy silhouette near the Brit. The island nation stared at him with half-lidded eyes, looking exhausted but worried as well._

_**Oh, it seems like someone else came to save your worthless self again. Strange isn't it, you always need someone to fight your fights, hmm? Such a pathetic weakling. **__The form sneered, taking a few steps closer to America and England._

"_Leave us alone! If you come closer, I will beat you up!" America warned apprehensively, taking a few steps backwards from the form._

"_Stop… dark voice…" England uttered, but America was not sure whether he was talking to the American or to the… wait, was that England's ego? How the hell could it assume a form? Given, it was just a silhouette but still… it had eyes and a mouth. Egos didn't have that usually._

_**But I wonder… would America always be willing to save you? **__The ego snarled lowly._

"_Yes, I would." America replied sharply._

_**Would he never get bored of you and push you aside once you're completely useless to him? He's a superpower, after all. Superpowers don't need broken toys like you. **__The dark voice cackled loudly, walking around the two nations, not unlike a stalking feline._

"_Don't listen to that bastard!" America growled, more than pissed by what the ego was saying. None of what it was saying was true! But somehow England must have been listening to it a lot in the past if it was able to become as strong as this. This really concerned America. _

_Looking down at England, America noticed that he wasn't completely there. The small Brit was struggling to keep his eyes open, and he seemed to be weakening. America looked around and noticed that shadows were moving around him, as if they were circling America. _

_As they approached, America noticed that many of them were starting to take on a form. America was shocked when he realized that among some of these shadows, some of them were beginning to look like versions of himself in different historical periods. _

_One of the America clones got closer, he seemed to be in his mid-teens, and he wore a sweet expression. He laughed, "__**Go to hell England, I don't need you. I never needed you!"**_

"_Hey, I didn't say all that! Alright, I said the "go to hell" part, but I never said the rest!" America argued, affronted that this image of himself was saying things the real America had never uttered at England. He tried shoving the fake America away but it faded away in the darkness before America had a chance of making contact. _

_Other shadows became clearer as they walked closer and America started wondering whether they were nations that came from England's memories. They were all whispering something and America only needed to hear snippets to be convinced that they were all saying horrible things. And chances that some of those things were untrue were pretty high as well. _

_He had to get out of here, the negative atmosphere was suffocating and he felt England slip in and out of consciousness now and again. He looked around in anxiety, trying to find a way out. He looked down at England helplessly and asked quickly, "England, we have to get out of here! How do we get out?"_

"_I don't… know." England managed to force out. He added, "I just… wake up."_

"_Wake up then!" America said in a panicked tone, turning in circles as he tried finding a way through the wall of ghost-like shadows. But there seemed to be more and more of them, and the dark voice appeared beside the nations, staring at them gleefully. _

_**Give up already. **__The ego snickered, reaching out with a claw-like hand towards England._

"_Never!" America yelled, moving away from the dark voice and looking around frantically. Suddenly he looked upwards and tried remembering if he had been pulled upwards the last time he was in England's mind. It would make sense, since you wake "up" and you "rise" after you sleep. Up made sense._

_**Come here England. **_

_Without giving it another thought, America crouched low to the ground and sprang into the air, hoping this might encourage the whole waking up process. Strangely enough, the laws of gravity didn't function the same way they did in reality and America was able to jump far higher than he could have ever done awake. He even got that soaring feeling, like if he was flying. But then he started floating downwards and he landed on solid ground again._

_He cursed lightly when he saw that the shadows were following him. He looked down at England and saw that the Brit was almost nodding off. He asked pleadingly, "England, I could really use your help here! This is your mind, I can't get out of it without your help. England, please listen to me! You have to wake up!"_

"_But… I don't know how to wake up like that. It just happens." England whispered tiredly, fighting to keep his eyes open. _

"_Come on, just try one more time with me. We only have to succeed once to wake up from this… nightmare thing. Hurry, the shadows are coming closer!" America said urgently, striding back and forth as he attempted to keep England conscious._

_**You're not worth saving England. Your worthless, pathetic life is not worth saving. Die already! **__The ego shouted as it abruptly appeared in front of America, glaring at England with those bright insane eyes. It dove towards the Brit and it was too quick for America to step back. _

_However, England's eyes shot wide open as the dark voice reached out for him and the island nation cried out in alarm. Suddenly there was a tugging motion and America felt himself and the Brit being pulled upwards._

* * *

England jerked awake, breathing quickly as he tried calming his racing heart down. He felt like he was waking up from a long and tiring nightmare. England blinked a few times as his breathing gradually slowed down. He wondered how long he had been gone. Long enough for the other nations had noticed?

What England quickly became aware of was the lack of voices. Had the meeting ended already? How come he wasn't hearing anyone talk? England felt a lot of confusion.

The next thing England became aware of was that he was not sitting in his chair at the table anymore. Indeed, England noticed that he was curled up against something… warm? It took England a few more seconds to realize that he was curled up against a body, someone bigger than him. England felt quite secure and comfortable, and the warmth did a great change in contrast to the cold he had suffered in his memory.

"Hey, are you awake?" A concerned voice asked quietly. England looked slowly up into worried azure eyes. America?

England wanted to ask how long he had out and what had happened since he had entered the memory phase. England also wanted to question why he had the distinct impression that America had intruded into his mind again. How did he do that? He rasped, "Hh… h-how…"

"Shh, don't talk. Your throat is probably sore." America shushed England, smiling as the Brit closed his mouth and looked at the American in surprise.

England became thoughtful and realized that his throat did indeed feel sore. Oh great, had he screamed in the meeting? From there he could assume that America had brought him out of the meeting. It definitely explained why England wasn't in the meeting anymore and why he presently found himself in America's arms.

"Wh-what ha-happened?" England whispered out hoarsely, inwardly cringing at the sound of his voice. God it was terrible… how much had he screamed?

"Hey, I said no talking." America tutted, hugging the smaller nation closer to his chest. After a moment he chuckled weakly, "I know that the World Meeting is not exactly popular among us, but I never knew you would go to this extreme just to get out of one meeting." He laughed lightly at his own joke, though his tone sounded strained. England felt like America was trying to recover from something, like he was mulling something over.

"But what-" England coughed, trying to clear his voice, "what did I exactly do? What happened?"

"Uh… you fell to the ground and… a lot of water came out of your mouth. You really freaked everyone out, no one knew what to do. I was… I thought you were seriously going to drown with all that water that was coming out of mouth." America explained, a hint of fear in his tone.

England looked down at his hands, frowning, "But I couldn't drown, since I didn't drown in my memory. I really hate this memory." England shuddered as a few images of the memory resurfaced in his mind.

"I can imagine that." America murmured quietly, shivering at the images he had seen. He was still trying to recover from his first real encounter with the dark voice. Man, talk about a bad acid trip. Not that America took drugs but if he did, then this was probably how a bad acid trip felt like. That dark voice was an asshole.

"Were you… in my mind again?" England asked hesitantly, sounding confused. "I remember meeting the dark voice again but things are a bit blurry… you were carrying me and shouting against my ego."

"Heh, guilty as charged. Yeah, I managed to get into your mind again, Ireland told me that apparently you summon this weird thing when you're in the memory phase that allows anyone touching your hand for too long to get access to your mind." America smiled sheepishly, before frowning darkly, "But your ego is really a bastard, a jackass. What was it doing to you before I came?"

"I-I'm not too sure. I came out of the memory feeling absolutely horrible and I remember the dark voice appearing in front of me and starting to… push itself into me. It wasn't pushing my physical body, it was pushing something that was inside of me… it felt awful, but somehow I couldn't find the strength to fight it. It stopped when you came and hugged me."

"Dude, that sounds like your ego was trying to possess you or something." America commented uneasily, having the sinking feeling that it was probably true and that England came very close to being possessed.

England sighed, "It really caught me off guard, I was just so preoccupied by the memory that I didn't notice my ego until it was standing right in front of me and then it attacked me… I didn't have time to react." The Brit exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a moment. "There was so much hatred inside that memory… too much of it. I don't like feeling so much hatred."

America looked down at England, a bit worried about the Brit's tone. He laughed nervously, "Yeah, well you haven't felt a lot of it lately but you used to hate a lot once."

"Why was I that hateful?"

"Dunno, I didn't really see that part of you when I used to be a colony. You always made sure I never saw that part of you." America shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably, not liking where this conversation was going.

England was silent for a moment before adding doubtfully, "But then you saw that side of me often enough after you became independent of me, huh?"

The American shifted uncomfortably, at loss about what he should say. He attempted to smile in a carefree manner, "Yeah, but you really shouldn't dwell so long on that depressing stuff. There's more to life than looking back on what you did or said and regretting those actions. Don't go making yourself a perfect target for your ego, it feeds itself on negative emotions like that. Brighten up and don't let it bring you down. Anyway, is your throat still sore? Should I get you something to drink? Definitely not water but how about… hot chocolate? Sound good?"

"Hot chocolate?" England repeated curiously, briefly dragged out of his own morose thoughts at the mention of a word he didn't recognize. What in the world was hot chocolate?

"You… don't know what hot chocolate is?" America asked stunned, amazed by that fact. "But it's chocolate! You gotta know what chocolate is!"

"I know what chocolate is!" England huffed slightly, staring at America. "But how can it be hot? If it's hot, it melts…"

"Well, that's exactly the gist of hot chocolate." America grinned widely.

England looked astounded, "You can drink that?"

"Yeah, that's the whole reason why hot chocolate was invented! The concept is actually older than chocolate bars even." America laughed lightly at England surprised expression. Seeing the Brit so surprised about something so simple just amused America to no end.

"I would like to try it out then." England mumbled quietly, his interest piqued. America grinned happily and stood up, turning around to set England back on the armchair.

"Alrighty, I'll see what I can find. You stay here while I'm gone, okay?" America gave England a thumbs up as he flashed him a heroic grin. England blinked a little at America's display but still nodded mutely.

America turned around and started walking away. The American cast a last glance at England before disappearing around the corner. England watched America's departure with a pang of sadness, not really wanting to be left alone. He didn't want to be pulled back into his dark thoughts, he didn't even want to think about the dark voice.

**Weakling**. The dark voice spat suddenly.

"Jackass." England muttered quietly, shoving his ego to the back of his mind. He was disturbed at how close the dark voice had been in possessing him. The Brit firmly promised himself never to allow his ego to get so close again.

Another reason why England hadn't wanted America to leave…He liked being in America's arms. It somehow felt right.

…Now that was another matter that seemed to confuse England more and more. The way his heart reacted when he heard America's name or saw the American. Why did his heart feel so odd, so jumpy? England quite liked America but it seemed to be a different story with his heart. It was a different emotion, one that England didn't really recognize. All he knew was that it was a strong emotion.

Footsteps in the hallway caused England to break out of his thoughts and look up, wondering if America was coming back. Huh, he had been pretty quick. The footsteps got nearer and nearer until the person turned around the corner. Then England was quickly able to assess that it wasn't America.

So why did he feel a pang of disappointment in his heart? He really needed to find out why his heart reacted like that because he was completely at loss about it.

England looked closely to see who was approaching. He was surprised to see that the new arrival turned out to be a young teen in a sailor suit. It was with a jolt that England realized that he had seen this person before… in his recent memories! Yes, he vaguely remembered seeing that boy… or nation? He didn't feel like a nation. However there was a striking resemblance between him and England.

The teen had been humming softly to himself, having at first not noticed England. He came to a stop when he did spot the Brit. He blinked slowly, his blue eyes wide. England noticed that the teen also had thick eyebrows, just like him.

Both stared at each other in stunned silence, waiting for the other to make the first move. England finally gave in to his curiosity and asked, "Who are you?"

The sailor boy seemed taken aback by the question, "You… don't know who I am?"

England cocked his head to one side, narrowing his eyes, "You do seem familiar to me but I don't know who you are exactly."

The other was silent, looking thoughtful. Suddenly his blue eyes brightened up and he puffed out his chest proudly, "You have before you the great Sealand, the greatest nation the world has ever seen!"

Sealand? England blinked in surprise, the name did ring a bell inside his head but… somehow something was not adding up. Sealand called himself a nation and England definitely didn't feel that the sailor was truly a nation. On top of that…

"You're a nation?" England asked doubtfully, sitting up a bit straighter to regard Sealand closely. Sealand grinned widely and took a step closer to England.

"The greatest." Sealand added smugly.

"Then how come I haven't seen your name anywhere on the world map?" England asked suspiciously, Wales had made him memorize the map often enough for him to be aware that he had seen absolutely no mention of the country Sealand. Who was Sealand really?

"The world map is stupid obviously." Sealand pouted and stuck his hands into his pockets. England frowned slightly, aware that Sealand wasn't being entirely truthful on who he was. He couldn't be a nation or England would have noticed him on the world map. Hmm, that meant that Sealand wasn't an official nation maybe?

"Please Sealand, just be honest and tell me who you really are. I know that I knew you before I lost my memories and I would really appreciate it if you didn't take advantage of my amnesia to lie about who you really are." England said wearily, hoping that Sealand would just tell him the truth. He didn't want lies anymore and he didn't like that Sealand was taking advantage of him to lie about who he truly was.

Sealand blinked in surprise, seemingly surprised by the straightforward request from England. The sailor shifted uncertainly before admitting, "I'm your younger brother and I'm… well, I'm actually a micro-nation."

"Micro-nation?" England echoed, furrowing his brow as he tried to remember what a micro-nation was exactly. So Sealand was in a way a nation but he was a micro… wait, didn't micro mean small? Small nation?

"Yeah," Sealand pouted and scuffed the heel of his shoe on the ground. "You built me in 1945 but then you didn't want me back so I wanted to be an independent nation. But you never let me."

"How did I build you?" England asked perplexed.

"I'm a sea fort, I was built during WWII. But now I want to be independent and you won't let me!" Sealand said, his tone sounding accusing.

England couldn't help but point out, "But you're not really connected to the land, you're man-built. I can't really see how you can become a nation, you don't feel like a nation to me."

Sealand sighed dramatically, "And the new England is just like the old jerk England."

"I'm not a jerk, I'm being realistic." England huffed, bristling slightly at the word "jerk". He wasn't too sure what the word meant but the way the micro-nation said it made it quite clear to England that it wasn't a very positive word.

The micro-nation puffed his cheeks in annoyance and frustration before he snorted and began full out laughing. England stared at Sealand in confusion, not knowing why the micro-nation suddenly started laughing.

"I'm so used to have an old and grouchy England tell me off for trying to be an independent nation and even though you've shrunk, you're still trying to tell me off when I'm bigger than you." Sealand giggled as he tried to explain, but England still failed to see what was so funny about that.

Suddenly a voice England did not recognize spoke up loudly, "So there you are Sealand. I was looking for you everywhere!"

Sealand started and turned around to the source of the voice. England leaned to one side to see behind Sealand and saw a girl whom he hadn't seen until now. Not even in any of the previous meetings. The brunette seemed to be of similar age with Sealand except her skin was tanned and she had a… band-aid on her forehead? That was a bit odd. She was also carrying a lot of stuff in her arms. England could spot paper, paintbrushes, pencils… she was really into art.

"Oh, hey Wy! I was just talking to England here." Sealand nodded his head over to the smaller nation. Wy turned her gaze to England, considering him for a moment. Then she just shrugged and looked back at Sealand sharply.

"You promised you would draw with me." Wy frowned at Sealand, walking over to the two boys and setting all of the art supply down on the floor around her. "So, are you gonna draw?"

The British micro-nation grimaced, "Why're you so obsessed with art? You're really not giving me any choice in this matter…?"

"Of course not, you did say you would draw with me." Wy smiled knowingly and handed Sealand some blank papers and a pencil. "Come on!"

Sealand sighed and sat on the ground, taking the pencil into his hand. Wy handed to him a board so that he could draw on the carpeted floor. England stared at both of them from the couch curiously.

He finally asked Sealand, "Is Wy also a micro-nation?"

Looking up from his paper, Sealand nodded and grinned, "Yeah, just like me! Except she's an Australian micro-nation, while I'm a British micro-nation"

"And I'm at least acknowledged by someone." Wy laughed when Sealand started to protest. She stopped drawing and looked up at England closely. Suddenly she demanded, "Why aren't you drawing too?"

"Me…. um, drawing?" England looked at Wy in puzzlement. Why should he draw? What was he supposed to draw anyway?

"Come on, get off your lazy butt and come down here to draw with us!" Wy ordered bossily, putting her hands on her waist as she waited for England to move. Unsurely, England unwrapped the towel from around him and slid off the armchair slowly. He approached Wy who handed him a blank page, a board and a pencil. England stared at them blankly before looking at Wy.

"But what should I draw? I have absolutely no idea what I should do."

"Just draw whatever comes to your mind. Let the artistic flow inside you go wild and free!" Wy exclaimed, for the first time splitting into an encouraging smile at England.

Sealand looked up from his paper and scoffed smugly, "Knowing your "artistic flow" Wy, I'm sure you'll just end up drawing sea shells or flowers again."

Wy turned to look at Sealand and her eyes narrowed, "And knowing you Sealand, you're probably going to draw some robots or yourself as a grown-up nation again."

"Hey, at least it's more original than what you do!" Sealand countered defensively. England watched the two micro-nations bicker against each other, watching them in interest. It was funny because although they seemed to be arguing, it seemed quite good-natured. Both sides knew the other and they teased without stepping over the line of just being plain insulting.

England smiled in amusement at the two micro-nations' antics and turned his attention back to his still-blank paper. So he should just let his "artistic flow" go wild? He should try… England gripped his pencil tightly and brought it down on the paper, starting on impulse to draw a shaky line.

* * *

Ugh, America had never had such a hassle with finding hot chocolate. At least in his own home, you could find it literally everywhere. But here the streets were confusing, the writing illegible and just… nothing made sense to the poor American! After a while of searching in vain, America had finally asked a passing Indian about where he could buy hot chocolate.

After some initial confusion, once the Indian understood what America was looking for, the human seemed to brighten up and suddenly started chattering in excitement. From what America managed to understand, the human was telling him of a place which specialized only in hot chocolates. It was apparently the best place in India to get hot chocolate. The place was called "Choco La" or something of the sort.

The Indian explained to America in fragmented English where the place was and although America sometimes had difficulty in understanding what the Indian was saying, he managed to get a rough idea of how he was supposed to find the place.

So he went there, was overwhelmed by the different options of chocolate, had a little trouble understanding the cashier who spoke English in the weirdest of the accents and finally managed to get the hot chocolate for England.

He promised himself he would come back to this place to check it out more. The amount of chocolate present there went on the borderline of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate factory. He chuckled when he saw the motto of the shop: _Save Earth. It's the only planet with chocolate._

America definitely wanted to try out all of the chocolate in this shop, they all smelled so good! But remembering that England was waiting for him back at the World Meeting, and logically the hot chocolate in America's hands wouldn't stay hot forever, the American went back to the World Meeting. He really hoped that he hadn't been away for too long, he couldn't tell how long he had been gone due to the lack of a watch. At least he was almost sure that he hadn't been gone for an hour.

When he was returning to the place where he had last seen England, he was surprised to hear talking and laughter. As he turned around the corner he quickly saw the source of these noises. Sealand and Wy were sitting next to each other on the floor, lightly teasing each other over their pictures. They had drawn a lot, the pages were strewn all over the floor. America was silently thankful that they were there, it meant that England hadn't been on his own during his absence.

England was sitting on his knees not far from the micro-nations, concentrating on the paper that was before him. A bunch of crumpled paper lay littered around him, it was clear that England had attempted quite a few times to draw something. England was frowning slightly and biting his lip in concentration and he continued drawing on his current page. He didn't even seem to notice that America had returned.

The American walked over to the Brit quietly and crouched low to see what England was drawing. It looked like a series of random lines, some of them straight and others curvy. At first America was confused. Seconds later, the American was still confused. He couldn't understand what England was trying to draw…

"Hey." America greeted, trying to gain England's attention. Maybe England could explain to him what this confusing picture was supposed to be. England jumped slightly and looked up at America in surprise.

"Oh, America. I didn't hear you come back." England then broke into a smile, seeming really pleased that America had returned. America grinned back in response and handed England the cup of hot chocolate.

England took the cup carefully and stared at it curiously, raising it up to smell it. His interest piqued by the smell, England raised the cup to his mouth and sipped on it. His green eyes widened in surprise and once he brought his cup down, England exclaimed, "That actually tastes good."

"Yup, nothing beats hot chocolate, no matter in what part of the world you are." America laughed, highly amused by England's reaction as the island nation proceeded to take another sip. It was just completely odd, who would have ever imagined such a positive reaction from a normally perpetually bad-tempered Brit? It was really a side of England America rarely got to see.

"Hey, how come we get nothing?" A voice piped up. America turned to look at the two micro-nations who were staring longingly at the hot chocolate.

"How was I supposed to know you guys would be there when I came back? I'm no psychic." America joked lightly.

Both micro-nations pouted at the unfairness but then Wy looked at England's picture and she cocked her head in confusion. She asked curiously, "So, do you have any idea of what you're drawing?"

England looked up at his drawing thoughtfully but then he shook his head. "No, I'm really not too sure what I'm drawing… I think I don't have that "artistic flair" you keep talking about."

Wy approached England to get a better look at the picture and Sealand tagged along. Sealand looked at the picture briefly and commented with a snicker, "Your picture is seriously weird. Weirder than Wy's even."

"Sealand, you don't want me to say what I really think about your robots, do you?" Wy warned the other micro-nation, her fierce brown eyes narrowed. Sealand closed his mouth and shook his head.

The Australian micro-nation returned her attention to the picture before admitting herself, "But the picture is odd, I can't really see what you're trying to draw."

"As I said, I don't know myself. I'm just drawing what's coming to me." England sighed, staring at the picture in confusion.

America leaned closer to get a good look at the picture before asking, "What are you actually trying to put down on paper?"

England stared from his paper to America, considering the American silently. He answered uncertainly, "I realize that it's maybe something undrawable, I was trying to draw… the dark voice. You know, the one you heard as well."

_The dark voice? _America thought, surprised that England was trying to draw that bastard on paper. Admittedly it was something that couldn't be drawn easily, heck, maybe even impossible. That thing deserved to burn in hell as far as America was concerned.

"What voice?" Both micro-nations asked in unison, looking back and forth to America and England. England seemed unsure to elaborate so America decided to answer in his place.

"Just a voice. Long story, I doubt you'd be able to understand."

Sealand and Wy pouted in response and crossed their arms, both saying at the same time, "We can understand, don't treat us as if we're stupid children."

But then Sealand turned to Wy and laughed, "Then again, you're technically just 7 years old while I'm about 43 years old. You're more of a baby than I am."

That started a bicker among the micro-nations about whether physical age mattered or physical appearance had more of an influence on their maturity. America and England watched them in amusement before America returned his attention to England. He was slightly concerned that the Brit had attempted to draw the dark voice, why would he draw the thing that torture him the most?

"Hey, why are you trying to draw your ego? Don't you hate it?" America asked quietly, making sure the two still-bickering micro-nations wouldn't listen in on the nations' conversation. England blinked a few times slowly, looking thoughtful as he regarded his picture.

"I wanted to draw it because I thought… if it was something more solid in my mind, then I wouldn't be so scared of it. Also I thought it would be nice if I had the dark voice on paper, I could rip the paper apart. At least that should give me some satisfaction, since I can't fight it in reality."

"England, if that bastard of a voice ever starts brainwashing you outside your nightmares, you'll tell me, alright? Then I'll be the hero and come save you from it." America grinned widely, nudging England's shoulder.

The Brit looked up in surprise at America, his green eyes questioning. "But how can you fight a voice that is within my head?"

"Dunno." America shrugged but added in a determined tone, "But I'll figure it out and I WILL help you." He said it with such a conviction that England seemed taken aback by so much earnestness.

A few seconds passed until England split into a grateful smile and he got up from his knees to hug America. "Thank you America." England said quietly, surprising the American with his show of affection.

They really had a knack in surprising the other, didn't they?

"Hey, what'd we miss?" Sealand asked inquisitively, him and Wy having finally stopped bickering at each other. England pulled out of the hug and sat down at his picture again.

America could only grin at the Sealander and replied, "Sorry Sealand, you completely missed the whole conversation. Shouldn't be so caught up with arguing with your girlfriend." America snickered at his last comment.

Sealand quickly became red in his face and protested loudly, "She's not my girlfriend!"

"Pff, how could Sealand be my boyfriend?" Wy scoffed, wrinkling her nose. She looked down at Sealand's and her pictures and then said thoughtfully, "You know, those robots would really look nice with a few flowers on them."

"Oi, no girlifying my robots again!" Sealand said in alarm as he went back towards Wy, trying to prevent the Australian micro-nation from damaging his drawn robots.

America and England started laughing once again as a scuffle ensued over the colour pencils. Neither heard quiet footsteps approach them until a soft voice spoke in a frustrated tone, "Really America, your abilities in finding excuses to skip World Meetings knows no boundaries, eh?"

The American started and turned around to behold a frowning Canadian. America opened his mouth slowly, unsure whether he should defend himself or apologize. Canada folded his arms and looked at America expectantly. He was tapping his foot on the ground in irritation and America squirmed a bit under the Canadian's gaze.

Suddenly his blue eyes widened in excitement, "Wait, if you're out that must mean its lunch right now, right? Great, I was starting to feel hungry!"

Canada jolted in shock and protested in an extremely irritated tone, "You completely missed the point you… you…" Canada started going after the American who quickly jumped onto his feet and with a loud, obnoxious laughter, was dashing away from the Canadian as quickly as possible.

England could only stare in surprise, cocking his head to one side curiously as he tried to make sense where both North American brothers had run off to.

* * *

_Albion gripped his heavy sword tightly in his hands, so tightly that his knuckles were white from the effort. His whole frame was shaking, though he was unsure if it was due to the harsh cold winds or to the fear gnawing at his insides. Most likely both. _

_The small nation continued climbing the rugged hills, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. Albion tried keeping his breathing shallow and even, he couldn't afford to make too much noise. At least not before he had the enemy in sight._

_In the last few years, Albion had begun to feel a strange stir inside of him, inside his heart. It was the feeling of change that alerted Albion that something was happening to him. Soon enough he came to the joyful conclusion: His potential people had finally appeared and as a result, a link between the ground and the people was starting to form inside of Albion. He was becoming a nation!_

_Oh how happy Albion had felt. It was a wonderful feeling to finally know that you were going to become a nation after all, that his existence would have some significance in the world and that he could finally represent his own people. _

_Truthfully, he had seen in the following months very little of these people who would one day claim him as their representation of the land. Albion had approached them warily, they still appeared to be nomadic and were met with a lot of resistance by the Britons, who were led by the surviving Celtic nations._

_Cymru had never looked so angry and so fierce, he was normally a passive nation who rarely bothered to show what he truly felt and ignored Albion more than he bullied him. But now Cymru and his people were hostile and aggressive, yelling and hissing at the unwelcome strangers to leave their lands._

_But how long would these lands remain theirs? The longer these strangers stayed and founded villages and drove Cymru's people away, the more likely it was going to become Albion's soon. Cymru had felt the link forming as well, he knew that Albion was becoming a nation too. _

_Albion had noticed the sharp and cold scrutiny in Cymru's eyes as he, Kernow and Breizh had to flee from yet another failed battle of resistance against the "invaders". Breizh seemed to be weakening every day, her people were fleeing the island and moving to the continent. Soon the female nation would be forced to go after her people, despite the fact that this meant that she was going to have to leave her two brothers behind to fight the increasing numbers of the invaders. Albion couldn't help but feel slightly smug about his people. They already were showing a lot of power and were equal in forces compared to the natives of the island. It was a bit strange listening to them speak though, their language was gruff and coarse. Albion wondered if they were going to name him soon and if they did, what would his name be?_

_But of course, life was never meant to be easy for Albion. Now that there seemed to be some hope for Albion to become a proper nation, another of his kind just __**had**__ to appear on his land and put his position in jeopardy._

_Now Albion understood why the previous Ancients had killed in order to preserve themselves. The smaller and younger avatars were capable of becoming quite strong and would eventually turn on the Ancients and kill them. Just like the Ancients had done to their predecessors and neighbours to expand their territories. So instead of waiting for the fateful day, the moment an Ancient saw a younger avatar appear on or near their lands, they would immediately eliminate the potential threat. _

_Apparently this violent habit had almost ceased to exist now. Less and less unbound avatars appeared from the earth and those that remained were being attached to a group of people which they would come to represent in later years. Many of the Ancients had started to disappear and most accepted their fate as their time drew to an end. _

_However, just because unbound avatars had stopped to appear didn't mean they no longer existed. They did as it would take some of them several decades or even centuries before they found their people. Or there was a simpler way of gaining your own people: kill the existing avatar, or nation. _

_Albion was immediately on alert when he felt the unbound avatar enter his land. The hostile avatar felt Albion and the connection between him and the land, making Albion the perfect target for the unbound avatar. Albion had caught a few glimpses of the other, it was a mousy-haired male who also had the characteristic thick eyebrows that all existing avatars of this island seemed to possess. _

_But there was something different about this avatar. By appearance he was a lot older than Albion, indicating he had been around for a longer time. He was almost as tall as Alba. The fact that an avatar his age was still unbound signified that he was indeed a mistake. This avatar would never become a true nation, unless he killed and took the spot of another. _

_The way the avatar moved was also different. More animalistic. From what Albion had observed, this avatar was probably more connected to the earth and fauna than to anything human. Albion even doubted the avatar was able to speak the universal language of the nations._

_A sudden growl caused Albion to quickly snap out of his thoughts. The other avatar probably felt Albion's presence by now but the young nation dearly hoped that he hadn't spotted him yet._

_He had to get in a position where he could see the avatar and ambush him. It remained to be seen how fiercely Albion would have to fight to assess himself and prove to the other avatar that he was a nation and he wasn't going to be defeated. Albion had survived and waited for far too long just to have someone else snatch his status from him. _

_Albion dropped down to a crouch as he slithered among the bushes, stopping every few seconds to look around and listen to localize where the other avatar was. He heard some snapping of the twigs ahead of him._

_Very silently, Albion crawled until he reached a group of bushes and pushed a branch aside to see if the avatar was in front of him. He smiled grimly, his senses hadn't failed him. The avatar was walking warily, not entirely upright and his eyes were darting quickly from side to side._

_He uttered a guttural growl, fully aware that Albion was somewhere close by but continued to evade detection from the elder avatar. Albion studied him shortly, the avatar was a lot bigger and seemed stronger now that Albion was closer, but there was one key difference: All the avatar had as a weapon, was a jagged rock that he held awkwardly in his hand. Nothing else._

_Albion bit back an incredulous laugh. It was almost impossible to imagine how underdeveloped the avatar was. Even his clothes could barely be considered clothes, very rudimentary sewing went into making that piece of wolf-skin even wearable._

_The little nation gripped his sword securely in his hand, willing his nerves to calm down. Should he jump out and ambush the other? Or should he walk out slowly and show the avatar he was willing to let the other go without a scratch if he didn't try to attack him?_

_Well, a non-violent approach could work. It's not like Albion wanted to avoid a fight because he was afraid of the other, but he simply didn't really feel like putting himself in danger of an injury. Going by the size and strength of the other, it was a factor Albion had to consider._

_Albion straightened up and walked slowly out of the bushes, deliberately stepping on the twigs on the ground to alert the other of his close proximity. The avatar started and whirled around to focus on Albion._

_A staring match ensued between both avatars, sizing each other up. The taller avatar quickly noticed the advantage he had in terms of height and strength compared to Albion. The avatar grinned widely, showing a row of yellow sharp teeth to Albion._

_The nation blanched at the display, seeing how untamed the other was. He had sharp teeth! No one of his kind had such sharp teeth! At least not anymore, avatars had become more human-like. How the hell had this avatar remained so feral? _

_The avatar took a few heavy steps closer to Albion, his nostrils flared as he took in the smell of the younger nation. Albion stared at the avatar cautiously, immediately getting the feeling that he was being stalked. He was starting to feel uncomfortable._

"_Y… you… l-land…?" The other uttered in broken words, having never completely learned to even speak the language shared among his kind. _

"_Yes, this is my land." Albion answered tensely, his shoulders stiffening as the older avatar started to walk slowly around him. Okay, the other was definitely stalking him!_

"_M…m…mine." The avatar growled lowly, his feral eyes flashing with concealed fierceness. He bared his teeth in silent threat towards the smaller nation. He clearly thought he was entitled to the land since Albion was younger. _

_Albion would have none of that!_

"_No, this land is mine. The people who live here are mine. If you know what's good for you, you'd leave." Albion hissed lowly, turning towards the avatar and went into a defensive position. _

_The avatar blinked for a few seconds before he started growling aggressively, crouching low to launch himself at Albion. The eyes of the young nation widened in alarm, the other was really ready to fight him no matter what? Ready to kill him just to claim his status? Albion's green eyes darkened with hatred._

_Albion raised his sword, his eyes glowering at the avatar. _

_Without a warning, the avatar launched himself with a roar towards Albion, his jagged rock high over his head as he swiftly brought it down towards the smaller avatar. Albion dodged the attack and as the other swung again to hit Albion, the nation countered the attack with his sword._

_The sword being definitely more dangerous than the jagged rock, the avatar quickly jumped away and attempted to attack from the other, unguarded side of Albion. Albion whirled around and blocked the avatar's attack again with his sword._

_The attacks continued for a few minutes, with the older avatar attacking and jumping back constantly while Albion blocked every single attack that came his way. Finally the avatar launched an extremely fierce attack towards Albion._

_As Albion blocked the attack again, instead of jumping back, the avatar swung his leg around and tripped Albion unto his back. Albion had only a few seconds to realize he was falling until he hit the ground hard on his back. _

_Albion quickly rolled unto his hands and knees and attempted to jump to his feet. That was when he felt the sharp edge of the jagged rock being plunged into his shoulder. Thanks to the thick cloak he was wearing, only the tip of the rock scrapped Albion's skin. It still didn't stop Albion from gasping out in shock and pain._

_Quickly trying to struggle to his feet, Albion attempted to dislodge the avatar who was towering over him. The avatar snarled and just as Albion was about to get away, he grabbed Albion's cloak and pulled the smaller nation to the ground forcefully. _

_The avatar grabbed Albion's neck and tried turning the nation onto his back, exposing Albion to the sharp blade of the jagged rock. Albion shouted and struggled fiercely, screaming as the avatar plunged the rock into Albion's left arm._

_Grabbing the sword in his right hand, Albion swung it blindly at the older avatar, desperate to get away from the avatar. The avatar screeched in pain and fell back from Albion, holding his forearm tightly. _

_Albion did not pause to see how much damage he had inflicted on the other, he swiftly struggled to his feet, his left arm hanging limply to his side. The haze of blood, fear and panic was starting to affect Albion's senses and he now saw the other as a danger that had to be eliminated._

_With an enraged cry, Albion ran towards the wounded avatar with his sword, ready to injure the other further. What Albion hadn't expected was for the elder avatar to recover from his shock and launch himself at Albion once again. He knocked Albion onto his back again._

_The older avatar grabbed Albion's right wrist and pinned it over his head. He completely sat down on Albion, making escape impossible for the nation. Albion stared at the avatar with wide eyes as he saw the other reach out for the jagged rock that he had dropped previously._

_He wouldn't be able to avoid a direct hit. Albion was going to be killed. _

_In a final desperate attempt, Albion ignored the screaming pain of his left arm and raised it to frantically scratch the avatar's face. In his surprise, the avatar let go of Albion's right wrist to bring both hands up to his face to shield himself._

_Without thinking, Albion yelled loudly and thrust his sword upwards into the avatar above him._

_Silence._

_No sound. No blood-curdling scream. No gasp of pain. Not even a groan._

_Just the silent dripping… dripping… drip… drip…_

_The avatar was frozen over Albion, staring at the small nation with wide eyes. His mouth was open but no sound came out._

_Albion was panting, staring at the avatar over him, barely aware that his right hand was wet. It slowly trickled down his arm. Fell like droplets onto Albion's chest._

_Suddenly the avatar let out a weak wheeze and choked on the fluid that was coming out of his mouth. Albion continued staring at the avatar, horror starting to take over as he realized what he had done._

_He was shocked when the avatar let out a weak chuckle. The avatar gave Albion a toothy grin, his whole frame beginning to tremble._

"_G-g…goo…ud..." The avatar managed to croak out, the light in his eyes disappearing as the body went completely limp. _

_Albion let out a shuddery breath, putting all the effort he could muster to push the lifeless body off of him. Albion sat up and stared blankly at the dead avatar, his mind blank with horror and disgust. _

"_I… I just killed…him" The cold realization washed over Albion, leaving the nation numb. He… had spilled blood. His hands were completely red with it. Albion stared at his shaking hands, seeing how red they were._

_He was horrified by them._

_Out of nowhere, laughter started bubbling within his chest. Laughter sprang out of his mouth, high-pitched and loud. Albion laughed and laughed, wrapping his bloody hands around his trembling body._

_Albion continued laughing hysterically to the grey skies and he began rocking himself back and forth, tears rolling down his cheeks. A few broken sobs managed to escape his throat._

_This was what it meant to be a nation._

_This is what it meant to become an adult._

_Red hands. Tainted mind. Shattered innocence._

_The laughter continued._

* * *

**A/N:**

Err... not so much of a cliffhanger? Still, this has got to be one of my favourite scenes I've ever written. Don't go assuming I'm sadistic or something of the sort, but I really have a thing for those kind of memories. Yeah, I can hear some of you let out a breath of relief, you actually thought I was killing a character you knew? Hah, I myself don't even know the name of the avatar England killed. It wasn't even attached to a group of people, so his death is of little significance to the world. However, it is a major influence for England since it would really be his first time killing someone of his kind, killing something that resembles him. He didn't mean to kill, but he was forced to do it. England is not inherently evil, but early experiences like these sadly taught him that he had to be the most violent and fiercest of all the nations to stay on top. (which he managed quite well. I mean, he even beat the Auld Alliance despite being sandwiched between these two different nations. That seriously takes skill in my opinion) Hope you guys liked the last memory anyway, I'm quite proud of it. I really wanted to verbalize the madness a child feels when they kill for the first time. It sort of is based on my father who at the age of six had to start killing turkeys for the Christmas dinners. The assholes who called themselves his father and uncles told my father he had to do it or else there wouldn't be any Christmas dinner. Tell me guys, how would you feel being shut in the barn with a turkey and being told to simply kill it? AT THE AGE OF SIX? My father eventually figured that he had to twist the head of the turkey around till there was a resounding snap of the neck. But clearly the experience was horrifying to my father because nowadays he rarely has the courage of picking up fragile things, he's always sure he'll break it. *shakes head* Seriously, at the age of six, I thought that death was sleeping and at that age, my father was already killing. Honestly, doesn't anyone else find this disturbing?

A tiny note about the Heimlich Maneuver: I did some research and it does seem that some people actually thought that it was an effective way to help a drowning victim, considered to be as effective as CPR. But scientific research is very clear on this, it doesn't help. Don't try it.

And America takes another stroll into England's mind and meets the dark voice personally. Absolutely great, don't you agree? At least America now knows that the dark voice is really something dangerous and that should raise his protectiveness a few notches. Also, yeah, the dark voice did attempt to possess England. (and almost succeeded) I base this idea on an experience that happened to my mother. You see, whatever your beliefs may be, my family believes in spirits and ghosts. My father has heard the banshee twice in his life before. Spirits mostly communicate to me through nightmares. My sister and mother can sort of "see" spirits, but not with their eyes but with a kind of blind spot at the back of their head. We used to live in a house that wasn't haunted but it was near a graveyard and many spirits were attracted by the negative energy created by the disputes of my parents. My sister, already as a baby, would stare at stairs or corners of the room for the longest time and then start screaming and pointing. Even my father's disciplining of her didn't stop her outbursts, which ruled out the possibility that she was crying for attention. When she was three, I once asked her why she hated going down the stairs to the basement where our TV room was located. She could only tell me that "shadow people were looking at her." Many years ago, my mother was in a room and was extremely emotionally depressed. What England describes to you in the story, that's how it happened for my mother. She clearly felt something trying to push her out and take control of her body. She panicked and ran out of the house. It was an old house to begin with, and she later discovered that a widow had died horribly in that house. Vengeful ghosts aren't fun, and she warned me that if I ever felt depressed and that I felt something trying to push its way inside, run for it! Don't wait. I'm not sure what happens if possession is successful, but it certainly can't be pretty. (hah, try sleeping now)(come now, don't panic. Possessions aren't all that common and most spirits don't try to possess you. I would say there are actually very few of those hostile ghosts who actually attempt possessions)

Oh, and Choco La? Totally exists, I did some research on that shop because I had no clue whether hot chocolate was commonly sold in India or not. Apparently they do, just not as commonly as us. ^^ (we and Starbucks, tsk, tsk, tsk) Also, Portugal was originally going to appear in this chapter but the scene was boring, dry and England and Portugal weren't connecting, so I had to take him out. I'll try again later on, but I just don't think I have grasped Portugal's essence, which means I can't write him effectively enough. Give me some time to coax him out, I know I should be able to write him but he's being completely uncooperative with me. He even rejected the idea of being turned into a female, so I really don't know why he's being so reluctant to come out and allow himself to be written into the story.

Other than that, thank you for reading and look forward to the next chapter! In the next chapter, the dark voice will be going completely "mind-f*ck" on England, so see what will ensue from that. (the dark voice can be beaten, the answer to his defeat was mentioned here already ^^)


	37. Chapter 37

Sorry, I know I've been missing for a month now or more! Agh, this is quite possibly the messiest upload ever but I was really trying not to go over the maximum of time I let you guys wait. I honestly didn't think I would have so little time, please forgive me guys. The chapter was also almost 61 pages long but I managed to break it in half and so you only have to deal with 38 pages. (I'm being nice to your eyes) I'm going to write a better intro, write the author notes and reply to the reviews later. Now, my only goal is to get the chapter up for you guys, I hope you guys aren't too annoyed with me for having disappeared like this. T_T I'll try not to disappear for so long, promise! I tell you, university is certainly a lot more demanding than school ever was. Still, I'm sticking to the story!

Have a good read, a great mindf*ck from our hated dark voice and I finally managed to introduce Portugal. Hopefully he came out well. Forgive me for any mistakes in this chapter, I was in a hurry... ^^;

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 37

England suddenly woke in cold sweat, his cheeks wet with tears and his ears still ringing from that insane laughter. Laughter that had come from him. As the details of the memory rushed back to England, the nation became pale and closed his eyes tightly, willing himself not to remember the details anymore.

It took England a few minutes to calm his racing heart down by inhaling and exhaling deeply. He looked around the hotel room, trying to find comfort in the harmless objects and the confirmation that Ireland was still there. He and Ireland were sharing the same hotel room but slept in separate beds. Though Ireland was practically on the other side of the room and was deeply asleep, England still found comfort in listening to the even breathing of the other nation.

England was physically and mentally shaken, the nightmare was still too fresh in his mind. England strongly considered waking Ireland up as he doubted that he himself would be able to fall asleep again but he was struck by the feeling of guilt of waking up the other just because of a past memory. It was bad yes… but the prideful side of England wanted to show that he was strong, that he wasn't going to allow this one memory undermine him. It belonged to the past, after all. Nothing could be changed, it had already happened and that nameless avatar was long dead.

Anyway, despite being shocked by what the previous England had done, the smaller nation couldn't deny that it had been done out of self-defence. If England hadn't done anything, he would have died back then and… well, a big part of history would have been affected by that probably. Who knows how the other avatar would have done if he had succeeded in eliminating England and become the representation of England's people?

**But what about the other times? Maybe the other avatar would have done a better job in your place.**

England started at the dark voice sneering inside his head. He quickly and violently shook his head, willing the dark voice to leave him alone. Wasn't it bad enough that it appeared in his dreams? Why did it have to haunt him outside of his nightmares as well?

The little nation slid out of his bed shakily and padded over to the bathroom. Maybe a little water on his face would be able to refresh him a bit. England managed with a little of difficulty to scramble unto the sink and he splashed some cold water on his face.

**While you're at it, why don't you try washing your hands? Maybe the red will come off this time. **The dark voice snickered darkly.

"Leave me alone." England muttered quietly, splashing his face with cold water again. He suddenly got a brief flashback of a young England kneeling at the shores of a creek, washing his hands to get the blood off of him_. This England was crying and begging for his hands to be clean. The red was long gone but England continued scrubbing his hands in desperation._

_He whimpered in a tiny voice, "Why won't the red go? Why do my hands still feel dirty?"_

England snapped his eyes open and shook his head to clear it from the memory. He hissed tensely to the dark voice, "I said leave me alone!"

**Your first kill may have been out of self-defence. But how many died by your hands when they hadn't done anything to you, anything to deserve death? Don't you want to know how many you've needlessly killed? How much you've hurt the others?**

"No, go away! I don't want to see-!" England burst out, jumping down from the sink. Dizziness suddenly hit him hard and England stumbled, falling unto his knees with a gasp. His head was throbbing painfully, threatening to split into two. His whole body felt like it was being torn into two separate bodies. England's vision became distorted, making the whole bathroom spin around him. A voice, sounding very much like his started laughing insanely, mirroring exactly the laughter that England had voiced when he had first killed.

_England was standing on his ship, staring towards the horizon. The horizon was tinted red, the sky ablaze. Dark smoke ascended to the sky from the burning remains of the ships, high screeching and wailings emanating from them. Distantly a few humans were in the water, some struggling to keep their head above the water while others were floating lifelessly._

_Staring at the carnage before him, England found himself laughing triumphantly. The laughter became increasingly higher-pitched and hysterical, sounding more and more the laugh of a madman. _

_Suddenly England yelled towards the ocean gleefully, "See what I did Spain? See what I did to your precious Armada? I can do anything I want and you can't stop me! You've just proven to the entire world that I have become stronger than you and I can do anything I please! And you will stand there and watch because you won't be able to stop me! No one can stop me! I am invincible!"_

"_Swallow those words bastardo!" A voice yelled hoarsely. England looked down in surprise and spotted an injured Spain in the water, clinging unto a piece of wood. Despite in great pain from the losses he had just suffered, he was glaring hatefully at England._

_England grinned a wide sadistic smile, it was good to see a powerful empire like Spain down like this. He had it coming, what right did Spain have in sending his Armada to invade England? England had shown him the consequences of going against him. Spain's Armada had paid a very heavy price for their foolish beliefs._

_Some of England's men approached England and looked down at what he was observing. Surprised murmuring sprung up among them, wondering how in the world this Spaniard had survived the attack. Of course none of them knew the true nature of what Spain was. How could they, they were nothing but simple sailors._

"_Captain sir, should we fish him out?" One of the men finally ventured, almost too scared to look at England directly. The crew had learned to be in fear and awe of England's authority and fierceness. They had never seen a captain so vicious like England. _

_England briefly looked at the sailor before looking back down at Spain. Spain was looking at him and the humans miserably, shivering from the freezing waters. England smirked smugly at the Spanish nation and turned to his men._

"_That won't be necessary. Either he'll float back to his blasted country from here or hopefully a shark will have a nibble on him before he reaches land. Either way, I don't want to bother with a smelly Spaniard."_

_The men around England chuckled as they started moving back to their posts. Spain started yelling abuse in Spanish at England who started laughing again. Spain looked quite comical when angered. _

"_Don't like being wet Spain? Does the pussy-wussy hate the cold cold water?" England mocked Spain, snickering in pure delight at Spain's enraged face._

"_Damn heretic! Rot in hell! Cowardly bastard!" Spain yelled furiously, his face getting red from all the shouting. England continued jeering. Spain shouted, "Weakling!"_

_All of a sudden, England stopped laughing. He stared at Spain sharply, his green eyes narrowing dangerously and taking on an acidic aspect. England glowered at Spain, hatred and fury filling his heart. Spain grew aware of England's silence and smiled impishly, smug that he had finally struck a chord in the gloating Englishman._

"_Sailors!" England barked sharply, causing a couple of men to scuttle quickly over to him. Without looking at them, he coldly ordered, "Bring that wanker on board and put him in the dingiest cell you can find. I seem to recognize him, he is from among the highest ranks. I wonder how much his foolish King would be willing to pay to have this man back… in one piece at least." The island nation sneered as Spain paled considerably at the Brit's words. Oh, he definitely enjoyed watching people cower in fear at his feet._

"No!" England protested, struggling in earnest to break free from the oppressing memory. He attempted to stand up but stumbled backwards and slid down against the bathtub. He still felt dizzy and his head hurt. "Stop it, stop it!" He dug his nails in his head in the hopes of shaking away the recent memory. The hatred, the rage, the insanity… England didn't want to see. Didn't want to hear. Nor feel.

**You can't deny what your true nature is England. **The ego snapped venomously. **You were born like this. A hateful nation. A thirst for blood and suffering. This is you.**

"This isn't me! Not my true me!" England countered back viciously. He had to get this damn voice out of him, to get it to stop poisoning his thoughts! But how could he do that?

**You can't escape from the truth now, can you? There are so many memories that show just how much of a monster you were… which would you like to see?**

"I don't want to see anything." England growled viciously and tried pushing the dark voice away mentally. It had always worked until now. The dark voice seemed to disappear… but then it PUSHED ITS WAY BACK!

England gasped in shock as he literally felt something stir within him, something that felt too alien to be a part of him. What was that? Was that the dark voice taking on a more concrete form? Should it be able to do that?

**Let me show you! **The voice growled dangerously and England felt himself being pulled unwillingly into another nightmare.

_England was panting heavily, his whole body trembling from the exertion. Standing before him, looking equally exhausted, was France. Both nations' uniforms were tainted with blood, their own and possibly from the other._

_France was glaring at England resentfully, fighting to regain his breath. England was staring back at France coldly, holding unto the blood-splattered musket tightly. France raised his hand to angrily wipe at the blood on his face, the red liquid coming from a small cut on his cheek._

"_You will not have New France." France spat out venomously, his blue eyes blazing fiercely. He in turn also held his musket more tightly in his hands. It didn't look like either of the nations had fired at each other, it seemed they had used their bayonets against each other._

"_And who will stop me? You?" England growled, his tone incredulous and mocking. The French nation bristled at the insult and launched forward, jabbing his bayonet at England's chest._

_The English nation nimbly side-stepped the attack and aimed his bayonet at France's forearm. France quickly pulled back and went back to facing England off._

"_Oui, me. New France belongs with me and I have will have no one, especially you, take him away from me. He's better off with me." France shot back, frowning at England._

_England let out a bark of laughter, "Better off with you? I have serious doubts about your claims! Tell me, how much have you broken him already?"_

_France scowled angrily, "Don't you dare imply that I have been abusing New France! How can you think so lowly of me in terms of taking care of children?"_

"_Hmm, let me think… maybe because of the things YOU did to ME back then?" England ground out sarcastically, his acidic green eyes flashing fiercely._

"_That was in the past. I was younger back then. Anyway, why would you be any better at taking care of children? Who knows, maybe Amérique is nothing more but a mere toy to you."_

_The other stiffened in shock at France's words. England started shaking again, beyond enraged. Knowing France's nature, England clearly knew what France had been implying with "toy". His blood boiled at the false accusation, how could France even insinuate that both he and England were alike? They would NEVER be alike! _

"_You will pay for such an insult!" England snarled angrily, launching himself at France fiercely. France smiled grimly and England realized too late that France had been manipulating him again. _

_England barely dodged France's attack as the Frenchman's bayonet scraped England's uniform and dug into his shoulder painfully. Instead of pulling back as France had anticipated, England viciously thrust his bayonet into France's unprotected side. The other nation gasped in pain and fell back by reflex._

_Not allowing the other nation to recover, England went after France and struck him with the butt of his musket. France groaned as the musket made contact with his nose, producing a sickening crack._

_The elder nation fell to the floor, clutching his nose in pain as blood flowed freely from it. England stood over France, glowering at the nation on the ground. England was still angry. England was not satisfied._

_With a click, England was pointing his musket at France's chest. His finger was on the trigger. France stared at the musket in shock, realization slowly dawning upon him in what situation he was right now. England started smiling sadistically in response to the other nation's expression. Now he probably wished he hadn't provoked England, huh?_

"_It's really a shame that a nation like us can't be easily killed, hmm? I would really like to live in a world without you, imagine how much better the world would be." England chuckled darkly but then shrugged his shoulders. "Ah well, at least enjoy having this bullet."_

_France was staring at England with wide eyes, his mouth slightly open as if he wanted to say something. England grinned widely at the nation's helplessness and added, "Since you lost this fight, I might just as well claim New France from you. He'll be better under my care."_

_Before France could protest, England pulled the trigger._

**Stealing a child from an enemy and breaking that enemy's heart both literally and physically? That sounds just like you England. Do you know that New France, you renamed him to Canada later, was quite heartbroken by that decision at first… he even hated ****you.**

"WILL YOU STOP!" England screamed at the dark voice and threw his head back violently, hitting his head on the edge of the bathtub. He cried out in pain as he clutched his head, the pain at the base of his head throbbing. Ow… what was that wet feeling on his hands? Was he bleeding?

Outside the bathroom, someone called out worriedly, "Sasana? Where are you?" The voice sounded like his own. Panic kicked in and England staggered to his feet, wobbling unsteadily on them.

Why did his body hurt so much? Why did his head hurt?

Questions flooded his head and England was unable to keep up with his own thoughts. He faintly heard the door of the bathroom creak open and light flooded into the dark bathroom. England looked up fearfully and screamed as he beheld the person before him. It was an older looking England, soaked from head to toe in blood and wearing a blood-thirsty grin.

England frantically scrambled away from the bloody England, searching wildly for means of an escape. His dizziness caused England to stumble again and he hit the tiles of the bathroom. Before he could make another move he was being gathered into the arms of the England lookalike.

As the small nation started to struggle against the grip of the other, the older England held the smaller tightly to his chest. "Sasana, Sasana, calm down! It's me, Ireland. I won't hurt you!"

The Brit suddenly stopped moving in shock. Ireland? But he was sure it had been the other England… but he had been clearly called Sasana. Only Ireland called him that. England let out a shuddery breath, his heart still beating frantically.

A few seconds passed before Ireland loosened his grip on England. He then cradled England gently, staring at England calmly. England looked up and found it odd how his vision seemed to distort Ireland's face. England gazed at Ireland silently, feeling himself relaxing and become boneless. Great tiredness weighed heavily on his bones.

What had just happened?

England blinked in surprise as Ireland reached for a towel and dabbed England's forehead. Now England was aware of his forehead stinging. Why was there a cut there? He hadn't felt the initial pain of this wound being opened. Ireland sighed heavily, "You were eventually going to re-experience one of your civil wars … you've had three in your life, after all."

"C-civil wars?" England stuttered tiredly, trying to reach his forehead and touch the cut gingerly. It was a long, thin and jagged horizontal cut. There had been some blood but Ireland had wiped most of it away and the cut was closing, leaving behind the tell-tale scar from a newly acquired memory. But England had dreamt about three different memories… which one had given him the scar? He had been victorious in all three of the memories. But wait…? "What is a civil war?" England asked quietly, blinking a few times to clear his vision. The pain in his body and head was disappearing and he was starting to see Ireland more clearly. He wondered why he had thought Ireland was the original version of England. He didn't even understand why he had panicked so much.

Ireland was observing England carefully, his own green eyes narrowed, "Firstly Sasana, are you feeling alright now? Are you still feeling dizzy? Do you still feel you could split into two different persons?"

England shook his head quickly and then groaned in pain. Ireland frowned at the response and before he could ask, England explained, "Just… the back of my head hurts."

The Irish nation's frown deepened as he slid his hand under England's head to check the source of the pain. He inhaled sharply when he redrew his hand and saw the blood on his hand. "Christ Sasana, did you smash your head somewhere during that moment of yours?"

"Uh…" England began uncertainly before Ireland gently but firmly made him sit up and bend his head forward slightly. He let out a sigh as he started dabbing at the wound at the back of the Brit's head to get a clearer sight of it.

Ireland then muttered after a moment, "Hang on, the wound isn't too bad, it might close up fairly quickly. Sheesh Sasana, you know how to make us worry for you every single time."

England grimaced but held still as the Irish continued wiping the blood away. "Sorry…" The younger nation apologised softly, looking down at the tiles of the bathroom. Some drops of blood could be seen here and there, they were certainly from his wound.

"Don't apologise. You were in your civil war phase, it is understandable. We all lose our marbles during our own civil war."

"But what is it exactly?" England asked inquisitively, feeling the familiar sensation as the wound on the back of his head starting closing, the skin re-stitching itself again.

"It's a war within your country, between your own people. Since both sides of the war are both your people, your sanity tends to go into shreds as you are pulled from side to side. You don't know yourself and sometimes we even hallucinate the other side of us which starts to feel more and more real the more sanity we lose." Ireland explained, stopping in his dabbing to watch as the wound closed again.

"And… I had three of them?" England asked slowly, raising a hand to trace a finger on the jagged scar. He was surprised when he felt the scar disappear entirely beneath his finger. He questioned perplexed, "How come that scar just disappeared now?"

"Because the war from which the scar is a result of was an internal one. So logically, the scar disappears after a short time from the outside. Civil war scars are all rather similar, they always appear as jagged lines either on the forehead or over the chest." Ireland then tilted England's head forward again just to take a good look at the recently closed wound on the back of England's head.

England remained silent for a moment, looking thoughtful. He then moved away from Ireland and turned around to stare at his older brother. He carefully asked, "But Ireland, I don't think I saw a memory from one of my civil wars. I saw three different memories, but I was fighting against someone else each time and I won against them."

Ireland cocked his head to one side as he regarded England in confusion. "What do you mean Sasana? You re-experienced the pains of one of your civil wars without actually seeing the memory itself?" The elder brother frowned when England shook his head. Ireland scratched his chin, "That certainly doesn't make sense, you should have logically seen the memory… what were the three other memories about? "

The small nation bit his lower lip, reluctant to tell Ireland about the memories. With a lot of hesitance, he recounted the memories of him fighting against France and of him mocking Spain. After several prompts from Ireland, England finally volunteered the third memory about his encounter with an unbound avatar.

The Irish nation looked very astonished by the last memory, "You fought against an older avatar and defeated it? You never mentioned any of that, that's the first time I've ever heard of this."

"But it did happen…" England said quietly, shivering internally as flashes of that memory reappeared in his mind. He wished that the memory was nothing more than a nightmare but it felt too real. England resented that fact.

"I think the two other memories are easy to place, the one with France was during the Seven Years War where you got Canada from him and the memory with Spain was when the Spanish Armada tried to invade you."

"Doesn't look like Spain was too successful in his invasion." England muttered lowly, a hint of sarcasm leaking into his words. He looked down at his hands for a few moments, remembering the brief flashback of his younger self trying to rinse his hands of blood that wasn't even there. England didn't know if his hands still felt tainted, the island nation was just starting to feel numb. He didn't know what to think of anymore.

Ireland glanced at England briefly, disturbed by England's tone but choosing to ignore it for the time being. He continued, "I still think it's strange that you got three different memories and none of them related to a civil war at all. I wonder why… was there something that maybe blocked the initial memory?"

"Yeah, maybe it was that blasted dark voice again, huh?" England replied bitterly, balling his fists in barely-concealed frustration. Why did his hands feel so numb? Were they tainted or not? Was he the one and same England, guilty of the same horrors his past self had done?

"Sasana…" Ireland sighed, reaching out with both arms and pulling the Brit into a comforting hug, "I know that this ego thing is not being easy on you at all, but you can't forget that you shouldn't heed its words. It has nothing to say that should concern you, it has no right to judge you."

"Don't baby me." England muttered, struggling out of the Irish nation's grip and standing up. He turned around and looked at Ireland, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance.

Ireland blinked in surprise, noting how hard England's eyes had become… just like they used to be once… Ireland swiftly shook his head and smiled worriedly, "I can baby you, you're my baby brother after all."

"I don't deserve it." England gritted through his teeth.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a monster and I shouldn't be shown any sympathy."

"…And who told you that?" Ireland questioned tensely, looking at England sharply.

"…" England looked to the ground, not wanting to answer the question to which both he and Ireland knew the answer to.

"Sasana, what have we told you? What did Ceanada tell you? Don't listen to that damned voice in your head!" Ireland exclaimed, leaning forward on his knees to grasp the shoulders of the smaller island and forcing England to stare directly at him.

"But how can I not listen to it when it has evidence that proves how much of an asshole I was in the past?" England demanded exasperatedly. He then ripped his gaze from Ireland's eyes and stared resolutely at the ground again. Softly, he murmured, "Sometimes I wonder if things wouldn't have been better if that unbound avatar had finished me on that day."

A shocked silence followed that statement. The Brit felt Ireland tighten his grip on England's shoulders almost painfully, the Irish nation barely managing to contain his emotions. England didn't have the courage of looking up and seeing Ireland's face, he knew he had said something very hurtful.

After a few tense minutes, Ireland growled lowly, "Sasana… do you have ANY love for your own people?"

"My people? England repeated slowly, looking up briefly at Ireland. His older brother's eyes were burning with an emotion England couldn't describe.

"Sasana, you exist because of your people and your people exist because of you. Without an "England", there wouldn't be any "English" people. There wouldn't even be an English language. Had that unbound avatar "finished" you and taken your place as a nation, there wouldn't have been any traces of "England" today. The avatar would have collapsed under the strains of being a nation due to his malformations, a mistake can't replace a nation, after all. Hell, maybe the other avatars such as Cymru or Pictland would have fallen upon that avatar like starved wolves and ripped him to shreds. There is only one reason why the country has come as far as it has today, and that's because you never gave up, you continued pushing forward. You loved your people. Regardless of all the bad stuff you have done in the past, you have always loved your people. That's what defines a nation." Ireland explained, glaring angrily at England.

"But they don't deserve me as their nation." England argued, shifting slightly in Ireland's grip. The other nation had still not relaxed his grip and it was starting to cut off the blood flow in England's arms. He was not sure, however, if it was the right time to complain about this.

"Then who does?" Ireland exclaimed exasperatedly, "Who the hell would be able to take your place and continue representing the English people? Are you honestly implying that you're ready to let your people down and allow someone else to take the reins from you? Don't you take any pride in being a nation?"

"No." England answered stiffly, "I haven't been given any reason why I should like being a nation."

"So you hate the very thing you are." Ireland concluded tonelessly.

"More or less." England nodded decisively.

Ireland sighed deeply. "Do you love your own people?"

"No."

"Why?"

England blinked slowly, looking for the right answer in his mind. Finally, he replied, "Because I can't understand how they can love a monster."

Both nations were silent for a while, Ireland scrutinizing England closely with critical eyes. England didn't miss the look of shock and disbelief appearing in his eyes, but they were quickly pushed back and hidden away from the Brit. Ireland stared at England for a little while longer, looking more and more conflicted by the second.

Ireland closed his eyes and sighed heavily. He moved his hands away from England's shoulders and moved them downwards so that they grasped the Brit's waist. Ireland stood up from the tiled floor and carried England with him, wrapping his arms around the smaller nation and pulling him closer to older nation's chest. The Irish nation then turned around and walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

"What are you doing?" England asked, allowing some curiosity to leak into his tone. He honestly had never seen Ireland so silent and calm in such a situation… it was almost unnerving. Like the silence before a storm.

"**We're** sharing a bed for the rest of the night, and you have no say in this." Ireland said stiffly, refusing to look directly at England.

"Why, to stop me from doing something stupid?" England demanded, shifting slightly in Ireland's grasp and finding himself a bit annoyed when Ireland tightened his grip on him.

"Exactly." Ireland answered curtly.

Too stunned by the answer, England fell silent as Ireland climbed back into bed. It took them a few minutes to settle down but when they finally did, Ireland still held England close to his chest. England squirmed a bit, feeling caged. But what could he really do, other than complain?

After a few tense minutes, England commented casually, "You know that you're more tired than I am. You won't be able to keep an eye on me once you fall asleep, which will surely happen before I fall asleep." England wasn't implying there that he was going to do something once Ireland fell asleep, but he did want to point out that it was a rather futile attempt from his brother to ensure that England wouldn't do anything. Did he honestly believe that England was thinking about hurting himself?

He probably did.

Ireland let out an annoyed huff, undoubtedly realizing the same thing now that England had pointed it out. Still, he hadn't loosened his grip on England. Both nations were silent for a while, neither of them wanting to give in to sleep. For one, it was the fear of getting more nightmares and sinking even deeper into his dark thoughts. For the other, it was the genuine fear that his younger brother would attempt something stupid, given his state of mind.

England then heard a soft hum that faded off quickly. A few seconds later, a second hum sounded, this one trailing off as well. The Brit looked up at Ireland, he was sure that the hums were coming from him. But why was he humming?

It became soon clear that Ireland was humming a song, though England was still not too sure why. The song Ireland was humming was very slow, had almost a wave-like quality. England found the song soothing to his spirit… before he was fully aware of it, England's eyelids became heavy and the small nation felt sleep returning to his brooding mind.

The Brit let out a soft sigh and felt himself relax, feeling himself sink back into sleep. Ireland continued humming his song for a few more minutes before he was convinced that England had slipped back into, what was hopefully a dreamless, sleep.

Ireland stopped humming after a moment and he relaxed his grip around the smaller nation, looking down to check if England had truly fallen asleep. He really hoped he wasn't going to get any crap for casting a relaxing spell on the Brit without England's knowledge or consent. But a sleeping spell would have been more obvious and Ireland's last victi-err, patient had almost fallen into a coma when Ireland had tried to cast that spell on them.

So a relaxing spell was the only answer. (and one of the few spells Ireland knew he couldn't mess up on) Ireland didn't know how to deal with a depressed England, he hadn't dealt with anything of this sort ever.

It scared Ireland. And this truth alone made Ireland feel ashamed of himself. He wished he could be a better elder brother…

But how could he? Ireland had never been faced with such a situation. Heck, England's family in general had little to no experience with troubles like depression and suicidal thoughts. It just wasn't Celtic mentality.

What was Celtic mentality is that you always stood up. No matter how hard you fell on the ground, you always picked yourself up, brushed yourself off and continued forwards. It didn't matter how much it hurt, it didn't matter how many wounds you had… it didn't even matter if you struggled. You just stood up as long as your legs could carry you.

That had been the mentality all the existing avatars of the British Isles had followed. Albion had kept fighting against the Anglo-Saxons, despite their growing strength in numbers. She had continued until she eventually collapsed from her wounds and exhaustion. Pictland had denied vehemently that her people were losing their identity and she had continued moving forward until the day she merged with Dál Riada and buckled under the damages caused by her being Gaelicized. Dál Riada himself had succumbed to his wounds inflicted by the Vikings a short while later, though he had previously for so many years insisted that he could still continue.

Of course it wasn't the healthiest mentality, it had actually caused many deaths that could have been preventable. But it was a good way to go down, to be remembered with pride. Ireland had watched those avatars fall with awe and respect, reminding himself that if ever he should fall, he wanted to go the same way. There was no time to reflect on your past deeds, whether good or bad. You moved forward and never stopped… and when death came, it was swift and by this point, you didn't care much about the pain anymore. That had been the way the Celts lived.

But then Ireland had to remind himself this: England wasn't a Celtic nation. England hadn't been raised by the Celts… but he had to a certain extent adopted their way of thinking. Once, England had also moved forward, had never stopped to look back. Every time another nation came and shoved England down, the Brit would rise again, more fierce and vengeful than ever. England's determination and energy had been the main reason why his empire grew to be the most powerful.

Then England had fallen from power, letting go of territories he had once conquered and retreating to his original island. The England Ireland knew from 1922 was gone, he had undergone an alarming transformation from an empire to a nation in less than a century.

Though many nations, including Ireland, had agreed that the change had been for the best, the Irish nation found himself wondering now if the change had been good for England as well. With the discovery of the dark voice's presence, Ireland wondered when exactly that bastard had begun to morph England's perception of himself.

The England from a century ago would have been too narcissistic and proud to consider ending his life… it was all that ego's damn fault! Its influence had driven England to commit the unthinkable!

…And the worst part about this was that it was doing it again. England's ego was reverting the Brit back to a similar state of mind the past England must have been in, prior to his suicide. No nation would ever claim that they bore no love for their people.

Despite the flawed nature of the humans, they were the main reason why nations existed. The reason why avatars existed. Why else would the avatars assume the shape of humans and even be capable of feeling human emotions? Humans were often greedy, selfish, ignorant, violent, uncaring, cruel, judgemental, sarcastic, materialistic… the list of their flaws was endless.

But regardless of the many wars the nations had to suffer for the humans, regardless of the countless plagues and natural catastrophes the nations felt along with the humans, regardless of all the pains a nation had to go through to represent their people… in the end, it was worth it.

If a nation survived all the horrors and then saw their people gathered together, cheering and laughing, singing and dancing, sharing and caring among themselves, the nation was able to stand back and admire their people.

"_But for your suffering, this would be all joy and glory."_

These words echoed distantly in Ireland's mind, echoing a faded pain the nation had once felt. But now Ireland saw those words clearly, and he understood. As a nation, you suffered incredible pain and loss throughout your existence. But, it was always worth it in the end.

Which is exactly the reason why England's words had caused such grief to Ireland, though the elder brother had managed to keep his emotions in check and hold himself back. Reacting to England's words might have encouraged the dark voice further. Ireland knew he couldn't avoid this subject, but he prayed that somehow, with the next morning, England's mood would have slightly improved and would be in a more stable state of mind.

Ireland didn't know how to deal with this adequately, and he wanted to avoid making the problem worse. Wales was probably going to yell at him for having used a relaxing spell on England without even asking for his consent. But it had been the only way Ireland could think of, it would have been either that or Ireland would have had to stay awake to rest of the night to ensure England wouldn't be tempted to do something rash.

Sure, it was a hit-and-run tactic and certainly it wasn't the noblest of tactic in existence… but it was a damn efficient one!

But Ireland seriously needed to talk with someone tomorrow about England's depression and growing disdain about himself and his own people. Maybe he should talk with Canada, the younger nation might have an idea on how to deal with this. He was the one who knew all about the ego, after all. The Canadian definitely had a better grasp about this issue than Ireland had.

…He should also think of talking with America about this, the superpower was spending more and more time with England and he needed to be aware of this as well. But then… Ireland should also talk with the rest of the family and England's friends… the Irish nation sighed heavily as he mentally counted how many nations he should mention this incident to. Tell too many and Ireland's an attention-seeker but tell too few and Ireland was irresponsible.

Ah yes, he should also call and tell Scotland that England had remembered the lake incident. He was sure Scotland would want to know and probably also try to apologise to England for his past actions. Without having actually voiced it, Ireland still knew that Scotland felt horrible about that incident and felt responsible for having supposedly "awakened" England's hatred towards his brothers. Ireland wondered how England felt about the memory now, he hadn't had exactly the time to digest it with the other memories that had piled on top of it from tonight. At least he hadn't changed his interactions towards Ireland, which hinted that his hatred and distrust towards his brothers hadn't returned. (somehow, Ireland felt infinitely glad about that)

Ireland let out a soft hum as he started running his hand through England's blonde locks, not fully aware of his actions. His mind was far too preoccupied. After a moment, Ireland exhaled heavily and murmured to the sleeping Brit, "Sasana, believe it or not, we all have red hands. We all are guilty of something. We all feel regret. All nations are tainted in blood from those who have given up their lives for us. If you think you are a monster, so are the rest of us. We're all monsters."

They were naturally flawed, like their humans.

But what else could be expected?

* * *

"Hey England, why do you look so tired? Didn't you sleep well last night?" A voice asked inquisitively behind England's back. The smaller nation lifted his head to look behind him and saw America take the empty seat beside the Brit. He was carrying an alarmingly large bag filled with hamburgers. It was lunch time during one of their World Meetings and most nations had chosen to stay in the meeting room and just stretch their legs and talk with other nations. England, on the other hand, had just spent most of the time dozing.

England sighed and rubbed his eyes sleepily, "With my nightmares? They were especially bad last night, how could I sleep with them?" England sighed again and lay his tired head on the table. He had woken up with a horrible headache and had been still trapped in Ireland's arms.

Poking the Irish nation in annoyance had successfully dragged his elder brother out from his sleep, upon which Ireland had relaxed his grip and England squirmed out of bed. His body felt stiff but it was his head that hurt the most. It was literally throbbing. When Ireland had asked how well England had slept, the Brit had moodily complained about his headache.

Ireland had then winced and muttered something under his breath that sounded like "why am I so bad at magic…?" and if England had felt a bit better, he would have immediately questioned what Ireland had meant by that. But his headache wasn't letting up and England let the issue go for a while.

Anyway, he knew that Ireland was somehow responsible for making England fall asleep so quickly, England was convinced he wouldn't have fallen asleep as swiftly as he did last night. And the unexplained headache…

What maybe still disturbed him the most were the memory influx he had gotten last night. Oh, and also his talk with Ireland. Upon reflection, England was surprised by how dark and morose his words had sounded. England had really been depressed last night, under the heavy influence of the dark voice. He could slightly understand why Ireland had seemed so disturbed by what England had said. On a side note, Ireland was still acting rather oddly. After the hotel room, Ireland had acted very distant and seemed to be trying to talk with anyone else other than England.

Had his elder brother been so disturbed by what happened last night?

"Mff mffmf mumf mmf mfmff mfff mufmm?" America mumbled incomprehensibly. England frowned and turned his head, seeing that America was currently chomping down on one of his hamburgers. America's love for hamburgers would remain a mystery to England, though he discovered that the previous England had also questioned the American's taste in food.

"What? I really didn't understand what you just said." England said tiredly, shaking his head and winced at his headache. He knew that it was lunch time but the American's hunger just seemed insatiable. England didn't feel hungry at all and he was quite sure America was on his fourth burger or something by now.

America chewed quickly and swallowed, repeating his question, "I asked if it was that stupid dark voice who annoyed you during your sleep."

"It was… partly the voice. But it was also the memories themselves." England muttered quietly, looking thoughtful for a while. He then turned to America, his eyes questioning, "America, how bad of a monster was I in the past?"

America started at the question and started to choke on the piece of burger that he had been currently wolfing down. He coughed and hacked and he thumped himself on his chest to dislodge the food that had gotten stuck in his throat. After successfully swallowing it down, America looked at England incredulously and exclaimed, "What the heck did that bastard dark voice tell you again?"

"More like showed me through my memories." England mumbled guiltily, slightly shrinking back from America's gaze. England didn't like it when America directed that simmering gaze at him.

"England, there were moments when you weren't the nicest guy around but you have to stop concentrating so much on the past. It doesn't matter so much anymore, what counts is who you are today. What point would there be to be always focussed on the past, huh?" America demanded, staring at England with scolding eyes.

The smaller nation flinched and protested, "But there are so many horrible things I did and I don't even know about them yet. How can I just continue ignoring the fact that I was such a hateful nation? How can I ignore that I may have been nothing more but a monster-"

Before England could say anything else, America put his index finger on England's lips, silencing the Brit. America was looking at England disapprovingly before saying, "Firstly, you did do horrible things but that does not label you as a monster. Don't let the deeds describe you. Secondly, you weren't horrible to everyone. If you had been, I would have never chosen you to take care of me."

England looked surprised at this new piece of information. "You…chose me?" England sounded confused and perplexed. America realized that England hadn't remembered that memory yet. Oh well, he had some explaining to do.

"You know, when you Europeans first "discovered" my continent, I was born a few decades later to represent your people who had come to live on my land. Many of you fought over me, each of you wanting to have me under their power so that they could grow stronger. Especially you and France fought over me, back then I was a bit scared about you two." America paused then, looking back into that fuzzy memory. He had been indeed scared by those two fierce empires that wanted to become his big brother so much. America continued, "You two fought each other often and neither of you could win. So in the end you gave me the choice to decide between you two. You know why I chose you over France?"

England stared at America silently, slowly shaking his head no. He regarded America curiously, awaiting the answer. America smiled and answered, "At first, you two tried to win me over with manipulation. But then you thought France was going to win, you sat down and started to cry, though you tried your best to hide it. That showed me that you genuinely wanted to be my big brother, I wasn't just another trophy to you. So I chose you."

"But… I still stole Canada from France. I hurt France badly and I probably hurt Canada too…" England said after a moment, looking over at the other side of the table where Canada was chatting animatedly with Cuba. America followed his gaze and sighed.

America explained in an unusually stern voice, "England, you were an empire back then. Empires were all about gaining power and weakening the others. And though you separated France and Canada from each other, ask Canada about how you treated him. He'll tell you that you actually treated him very well and you allowed him to keep his French roots and culture after he made it clear to you that he wasn't going to cut those links. Okay, you didn't really allow France to see him anymore but on the whole, you weren't harsh on Canada."

The Brit was staring in surprise at America, startled by the fact that America was trying so hard to convince him that he hadn't been a monster after all. America was gazing at him closely, probably trying to see whether he had successfully convinced England or not. When England made no move to respond, America felt inclined to say more.

"Look England, can't you let go of the fact that as an empire, you did things that are by today's standards harsh and cruel? No one can be perfect and we all make mistakes. Why do you feel the need of staying stuck in the past so much? Why do you always need to walk backwards?"

"I don't want to walk backwards!" England said defensively, balling his fists in frustration and silently cursing at the persistent headache. "But every time I try to walk forward, something is constantly pulling me back. My mind is always revealing memories that I'd rather forget but I can't because they haunt me."

"Don't allow them to haunt you. Every time a new bad memory comes up, remind yourself of the happier memories. Close out the bad ones, don't even pay attention to them anymore." America said with a tone of finality. He munched down on the last bit of his hamburger.

England sighed and said hesitantly, "I can… try." The Brit lowered his head to the table and held onto it, wincing slightly at the throbbing headache.

"England, I know it's definitely not easy for you, especially with those nightmares, but never forget that you're not alone. I, your brothers and many others will stick with you like glue, until the very end. No one will let you down." America insisted earnestly, gripping England's shoulder reassuringly to convince the Brit that he truly was not on his own. Even without his memories, England seemed to believe he would be on his own. Noticing the pained expression on the island nation's face, America was tempted to question, "What's wrong now? Are you feeling sick?"

"Headache." England murmured, closing his eyes.

"Oh, is it really bad?" America asked, sounding worried. He was about to ask if England had a fever when he felt someone tap on his shoulder. America stopped and turned his head to see who had tapped him.

It was Ireland, who said very quietly, "Can you come with me for a moment? I need to talk to you and Ceanada."

America started to protest in an equally low voice, "But what about Eng-"

But the Irish nation grasped America by the elbow and started pulling him away, whispering under his breath, "Taken care of, I asked Nua Séalainn to go and talk to him. Now come with me."

Without waiting for a response from the younger nation, Ireland dragged the American a considerable distance away from the table before he stopped near one of the walls of the meeting room. Canada was already there. America shot a glance back at where England was and saw that the Brit hadn't made any move at all, it was almost as if he hadn't noticed America's absence yet.

The America pulled his arm out of Ireland's grasp, frowning at the Celtic nation, "Hey, don't drag me around like that. I didn't even say yes to coming with you. England's having a headache and I wanna see what I can do for him."

Ireland grimaced and scratched the back of his head awkwardly, admitting, "The headache's kind of my fault, it should fade off soon enough though. You know, messed up a spell again, nothing dangerous. But there's another reason why you two are here, it's about Sasana."

"What's wrong?" Canada asked in a concerned tone.

The Irish nation looked at America and asked, "Did Sasana mention to you anything about his nightmares from last night?"

America shrugged, "He kinda mentioned them, but then he just straight up asked me how much of a monster he used to be." Canada and Ireland looked very startled by that and America quickly added, "Don't worry, I told him to stop focussing on the past so much and to think about more positive things. I also told him that while he used to be an empire, he wasn't the only one."

Canada looked perplexed, "But what memories did England get last night to feel so bad that he labelled himself a monster?"

Ireland sighed and began to explain, "Sasana woke up from a very bad memory yesterday and right after that, he sort of had an episode of insanity and confusion because he partially regained his memory from one of his civil wars-"

"But hang on," America cut the elder nation off, "England didn't mention anything about a civil war. A civil war actually shouldn't make you label yourself a monster. He mentioned the memory of when he took Canada away from France…"

"Meiriceá, I wasn't finished." Ireland interjected sharply, "And I said, Sasana got that memory partially. He remembered the pain and the feeling of insanity that follows a civil war, a feeling both me and you Meiriceá are very familiar with. He even got the scar that soon disappeared. But…" Ireland now turned his attention to Canada, "He didn't get the actual memory. He got instead 2 memories that showed Sasana how much of a bastard he used to be. Can an ego become this strong that it can make Sasana see some memories and block other memories?"

Canada looked shocked and his purple eyes soon turned conflicted. He shook his head after a moment, "The ego should be nowhere near strong enough to be able to decide what memories England should see or not. That's really not good, that means England's ego can influence England if he doesn't take the initiative to ignore his ego."

"But that's the problem, I think he is listening to his ego again." Ireland said insistently.

"WHAT?" America and Canada both exclaimed simultaneously.

Ireland sighed, "I talked with Sasana yesterday after he had recovered from his episode, and he said some really harsh things about himself. It was almost as if he was starting to consider finishing what the past Sasana hadn't managed to accomplish."

Suddenly America shot forward and grabbed Ireland by the front of the suit and pulled him closer to the American. The younger nation then growled, "Are you telling us that England is going to try and commit suicide again?"

The Irish nation scowled, "Firstly, I did nothing to deserve your anger directed at me, so let go of me." Ireland grabbed America's hands and forced him to release his suit. After brushing himself off, Ireland continued, "And secondly, Sasana didn't directly say he wanted to kill himself again. His _thoughts_ came dangerously close to being suicidal thoughts again. His ego is reverting him back to the state Sasana was a few months ago before he tried committing suicide."

"But… but what can we do?" America said helplessly, his anger quickly evaporating. If what Ireland was saying was true, then England was in danger of doing something stupid again. What if he was successful this time?

"We need to remind England that he is surrounded by others who care deeply about him. He needs to know that he is never alone, that someone will always be willing to lend him an ear." Canada said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest thoughtfully.

Ireland nodded, "I think Sasana needs to start spending time with nations he didn't hurt in the past. Sure, there are tons of nation he has a long history with, but with some of them, there's some really bad blood."

"Do you think England's getting all those negative memories because he stayed with nations that he hurt in the past?" America asked carefully. "I mean, he stayed with China and Hong Kong, he stayed with France and he stayed with Spain. They're all nations he hurt in the past."

"That's true…" Canada seemed very surprised by America's words, seeming to realize just now that the American did have a point there. Hadn't Canada's book often stated that negative attracts negative, hence the importance of thinking positively?

The three nations were quiet for a moment, each sunk in their own thoughts. America looked up at the two others and said uncertainly, "So, what do we do now? Do we leave the way things are, or do we try and nudge England towards the nations he actually had good relationships with?"

"That sort of bumps me off the list…" Ireland muttered, crossing his arms.

"But your relationship with England has improved." Canada pointed out.

"Only in the last hundred years. There's enough bad stuff to blot out the good." Ireland crossed his arms, looking annoyed. "I won't be able to help Sasana much, my history with him will not make him view himself as a better nation."

"Oh no, you're not going to abandon England now!" Canada frowned darkly.

"But-" Ireland began but was cut off by America.

"Ireland, you're still England's brother, no matter what happened a hundred or even two hundred years ago. He needs everyone's help, and that includes you too." America crossed his arms as he stared at Ireland disapprovingly.

Ireland huffed but didn't protest. After a moment he said, "But we still should consider having Sasana talk with other nations who he actually had good relationships with in the past."

"That's true, we need to convince England not to listen to his ego anymore." Canada agreed, nodding his head.

"Isn't there a way to beat this stupid ego?" America said curiously, looking at the two other nations. He asked Ireland, "Don't you have any kind of spell or thingy that could… you know, destroy the dark voice?"

"America, we shouldn't rely on magic to do this. Magic can't solve everything." Canada admonished tiredly.

"And even if we were going to consider magic, I don't know of any spells that can target the ego. Breatain Beag would surely lose his temper with me if I did try a spell on Sasana anyway." Ireland laughed uneasily, scratching the back of his head. Both America and Canada stared at Ireland blankly and then at each other, shaking their heads in confusion.

* * *

England yawned widely, he still felt rather tired despite his headache. But he decidedly felt less heavy-hearted. It felt good talking about his troubles with someone else, he never thought that sharing his thoughts could be of such a relief to him. England got a nagging feeling that his previous self had rarely, if at all, confided in any other person. It would explain why every time England got this down, he felt choked up by a ton of negative emotions. Centuries of keeping everything bottled up wasn't the best solution obviously.

Well, he had nodded off for a few minutes without really realizing it. But now he noticed the noticeable absence of a certain voice. Where had America gone? The American was truly a chatterbox, he disliked the silence and always seemed to feel the need to fill it with his voice. But why couldn't England hear him anymore?

"Hey England?"

The Brit jumped a little bit at the unexpected voice. It wasn't America's, this voice sounded much too calm and unAmerica-like to be him. But it wasn't Canada's either, the voice had a different accent than to what England had heard from the Canadian. England turned his head around to look at the unfamiliar nation.

A brown-haired male nation stood in front of him, having a strange curl on both sides of his head. The curls weren't very dissimilar from ram horns. He had pale green eyes and… had slightly thicker eyebrows. So this nation was somehow connected to England, wasn't he?

The unknown nation smiled, seeming friendly. He briefly looked behind his back before turning to England again, "I don't think I've had a chance reintroducing myself to you yet. I'm New Zealand, one of your former colonies."

England gaped slightly at New Zealand. Another colony? "How many colonies did I have?" England asked quietly, amazed that his previous self had so many colonies. How big had he been when he had been an empire?

"You had many, never got around to counting them." New Zealand chuckled, casting a quick glance over his shoulder again. He then turned back to England and regarded the Brit worriedly, "You're looking quite tired, did you get enough sleep?"

The Brit shook his head, "No, I get nightmares almost every night but they were especially bad last night. And I have a headache to top it off."

New Zealand cocked his head to one side curiously as he questioned, "That headache is possibly due to the lack of sleep. Do you think of something positive or negative before falling asleep?"

That question surprised England and he actually tried thinking back. After a while he shrugged, "I'm not sure, I never pay attention exactly to what I think before I fall asleep. But maybe… well I sometimes wonder about what memory I'll get during my sleep."

"They're not often good memories, right?" New Zealand smiled sympathetically and England could only nod at that statement.

"Most of the memories that cause me to wake up are the bad ones."

"Haven't you ever thought of thinking about something peaceful, something completely unrelated to your memories?" New Zealand proposed brightly.

England shook his head and looked at the New Zealander in curiosity. He wondered what the other island nation was getting at. "Like what?" He asked.

New Zealand looked thoughtful for a moment, biting his lower lip. He then said excitedly, "Sheep! And Kiwis!"

When the Brit looked at New Zealand wordlessly with a raised eyebrow, the taller nation seemed to colour a bit in the face in embarrassment. "Well, both creatures are fluffy and docile. I always think about them before going to sleep, it calms me down and I usually get very nice dreams after that."

England thought about it and realised the idea sounded quite familiar to him. He asked New Zealand just to confirm, "So it's something like counting sheep?"

"Yes, exactly that!" New Zealand nodded eagerly, then adding, "But I also sometimes think of kiwis instead of sheep."

"Counting sheep? Mate, you're even more childish than I thought." A voice guffawed behind New Zealand. Suddenly an arm was slung over New Zealand's shoulder and the nation found himself being pulled into a head lock by none other than his Oceanian brother. Australia laughed as he ruffled New Zealand's hair.

"Australia? Let go!" New Zealand struggled against the grip of the other. Once he managed to wriggle free, New Zealand looked at Australia reproachfully and questioned, "I thought you were too occupied on the other side of the room talking with Singapore. How come you're here?"

"Aww, I saw my little baby brother talking to England, so I decided I would come over and see what you two are talking about. Is there something wrong with that?" Australia grinned impishly, earning himself a small punch from the New Zealander.

New Zealand crossed his arms and pouted, "Stop calling me that, I'm not that much younger than you."

Australia laughed loudly and then turned to England expectantly, "You do remember who I am England, right? I know that the last time you saw me, you freaked out and ran away from me and past the kangaroos."

"It's probably what you count before falling asleep." New Zealand muttered under his breath, seeming a bit angry that he was being shoved aside by the boisterous Australian. It certainly didn't seem to be the first time that Australia took the spotlight from the smaller nation.

Unfortunately for New Zealand, Australia heard what his brother said and turned his head to glance blankly at him. He then burst out laughing, "Why should I count kangaroos before falling asleep? That's completely silly!"

"Then it's koalas." New Zealand huffed with a tone of finality. He still hadn't uncrossed his arms and he was currently frowning at his older brother. England stared at both nations back and forth, wondering why New Zealand seemed to close himself when Australia arrived. Didn't they get along?

"Pssh, koalas can't jump over fences, silly Kiwi." Australia teased as he poked New Zealand's cheek with his finger. "Anyway, I don't count anything to fall asleep. I just think of a waterfall. You fall very quickly asleep with that."

"Waterfall?" New Zealand said sceptically, raising an eyebrow. He looked unconvinced by the Australian's words.

"Yup, some kind of research says that thinking of a waterfall makes you fall asleep quicker than counting sheep." Australia grinned widely while New Zealand seemed to get even more ticked off by the Aussie.

"Counting sheep is the best method to fall asleep! It's always worked for me!" New Zealand protested loudly, huffing in annoyance.

"Not everyone is so obsessed about sheep as you are Zea!" Australia started laughing as he saw New Zealand get red in the face.

"I'm not obsessed about them! It's just a stereotype people attribute to me!" New Zealand spluttered in embarrassment.

"They always say there is a grain of truth in every one of them." Australia shot back with a knowing smile.

As both nations continued bickering between each other, England had proceeded to lay his head back down to rest. From what he could see and hear, these two nations were quite close despite Australia's liking in teasing New Zealand. Their tones were light, so there was no need for England to wonder further. Scotland called this "brotherly love", didn't he?

"Hey England, didn't miss me too much?" A new voice piped up. England raised his head slightly to confirm that America had returned. The American was smiling widely, looking a bit guilty that England knew that he had left the Brit alone without saying a thing.

"It's alright, I wasn't entirely alone." England mumbled, managing a small smile while he nodded his head towards New Zealand and Australia, both nations still arguing. America followed his gaze and watched in curiosity as both Oceanian nations continued quarrelling.

America then asked, "What are they talking about?"

"Whether counting sheep or thinking about a waterfall makes you fall asleep more quickly." England answered and America turned back to look at him, his wide azure eyes surprised. After a moment of pondering, America snorted.

"Those two were always a bit weird in my opinion. Don't they know that thinking about hamburgers will make you fall asleep? It always worked for me!" America declared proudly.

England could only groan in response and let his head drop onto the table. _Bugger it all, I just want to sleep. Oh, and I also want that stupid headache to go away. _England thought tiredly. He wasn't sure if he could though, he seemed to be surrounded by nations with odd ways of thinking. Was that Germany calling the nations to order, telling them the meeting will start again? England couldn't really be bothered to check, he just wanted to sleep.

Before he knew it, sleep had claimed him.

* * *

England jolted awake as he felt someone nudge him none too gently in the side with their elbow. He looked to the side to demand why he was being woken up so rudely. The culprit turned out to be America, but right now America's focus was on something else entirely. He was staring closely at something else across the room.

The Brit followed his line of sight and noticed that the meeting room was oddly quiet, even though all the nations were still there in their seats. But it seemed like something unexpected was happening because they were all looking in the same direction.

On the other side of the room, the double doors of the meeting were wide open and there was a newcomer England didn't immediately recognize. But the new arrival looked awfully familiar… England narrowed his eyes slightly.

The newcomer had white hair and red eyes, reminding England of someone he had seen a few months ago back at America's house during the American's birthday party. Who was he again? Wait… was it Prussia?

The Prussian was strutting around proudly, loudly proclaiming, "…And that's why I decided to come here to grace you all with my awesome self! Aren't you all lucky? I'm saving you guys from a potential death of boredom."

Germany was rubbing his temples tiredly, sighing exasperatedly, "Prussia, how many times do I have to say to you that, as an ex-nation, you're not allowed into the World Meeting? These meetings are only for nations, no one else."

"Ach, loosen up already Bruder. Those stuffy meetings need to be spiced up a little, ya?" Prussia grinned mischievously, walking around the round table. Every nation was following Prussia's movements intently, each trying to guess what the German was going to do next.

"Prussia, whatever you have planned, knock it out of your mind…" Germany growled lowly in a warning tone.

"Why?" Prussia asked coyly. He reached out for one of the water bottles that every nation got for the meetings. The dark-skinned nation, presumably an African nation, from whom Prussia had snatched the water bottle from, made a small protest but was silenced by Prussia's wide grin.

"Prussia, return that water bottle. It's not yours." Germany said sternly.

"But what if I'm thirsty?" Prussia questioned with an impish smile. He opened the water bottle and seemed to be taking a sip. But then his mischievous smirk widened as he added, "And what if I'm not?"

Before Germany could respond to that, Prussia aimed the bottle and threw it at one of the nations. A few seconds later and someone cried out in sudden surprise.

The water bottle had hit Hungary, spilling its contents all over her suit. She looked at Prussia furiously as she stood up from her chair. She muttered angrily, "You're so dead when I'm through with you Prussia."

"Gotta catch me first!" Prussia laughed, grabbing another water bottle from the table and opening it as well. Germany was gaping at him, too shocked to recover and try to take control of the situation. The Prussian grinned excitedly and threw the water bottle at Greece who was dozing.

It hit Greece on the head and all the water spilled out of the bottle. The Mediterranean nation woke up with a jolt and looked around to see who had dared to drench him in water.

Prussia yelled gleefully, "Hey Greece, Turkey totally threw that water bottle at ya!"

"He did?" Greece said quietly, anger and annoyance plain in his tone. He turned his head to look at Turkey who sat several seats away from him.

"I didn't, look, I still have my water bottle!" Turkey protested, motioning at the water bottle that was in front of him. The Greek nation glared at Turkey angrily, clearly not convinced. Greece grabbed his bottle and removed the cap, took aim and threw it at the Turk.

Turkey ducked to avoid the bottle but needn't have bothered. Greece's aim was horrible and the bottle hit Turkey's neighbour, Macedonia. The little nation jolted as the bottle hit her in the shoulder, the water spraying out.

"Very funny Greece, you think I wouldn't see this as something you've done on purpose?" The Macedonian nation hissed angrily, grabbing her own water bottle.

"Prussia, you're so dead!" Hungary screeched as she gave chase after the cackling Prussian. She almost got a grip on him when suddenly another water bottle hit her and drenched her to the skin.

The Hungarian stopped dead in her tracks to search for the new culprit. Romania stood behind her, barely holding back his laughter. When he saw that Hungary was glaring at him, he explained with a snicker, "Sorry, I couldn't resist the temptation."

"Resist this!" Hungary yelled and threw an open water bottle she had grabbed from the table at the Romanian. Romania quickly ducked and the water bottle hit Slovenia who was seated behind him.

Slovenia made a small "eep" sound as the cold water went down the collar of his suit. He lurched to his feet with a jolt and looked around angrily to see who had done it, his eyes settling on Romania.

"It was Croatia!" Romania yelped and swiftly pointed at the "culprit" while he started fleeing from the enraged Hungarian nation who was spitting swears in her language.

"Did not!" Croatia protested and stood up as Slovenia started to approach him menacingly. The Croatian nation yelled after Romania, "Don't push the blame on me, I did nothing to Sloveni-AAHH!"

Just at that moment, two water bottles were emptied entirely on top of Croatia's head. With his hair completely dripping wet, Croatia whipped his head around to see who had deliberately attacked him. He found Serbia standing behind him, grinning widely as he held two empty bottles in his hands.

Croatia narrowed his eyes dangerously and he growled, "Oh, you're just asking for it, aren't you?" Before Serbia had the chance to respond, Croatia launched himself at the Serbian nation with a yell.

A water bottle was thrown here.

Another water bottle was thrown there.

Dozens of nations got drenched to the skin.

Prussia jumped on top of the meeting table and bellowed, "WATER BOTTLE FIGHT!

And just like that, all hell broke loose and the meeting was plunged in total chaos.

Germany stood up and started yelling something, but his voice was drowned out by the ruckus and before the German nation could resort to any drastic measures, he found himself being tackled by Prussia and Denmark, both nations equipped with water bottles.

England looked around him in confusion and wonder. How had they come to this situation in less than five minutes? And to imagine that it started with only Prussia in the beginning… and the rest were simply chain reactions. The Prussian knew how to orchestrate a fight, that much was evident.

The Brit looked beside him and was surprised to see that America was laughing heartily at the quarrelling nations. England looked extremely confused as he questioned, "Why are you laughing at this?"

America turned to look at England, trying to hold back a bit of his mirth. He explained with barely suppressed laughter, "Because it's funny. It sure beats the stuffy meetings and it makes things more interesting.

"Hey, American bastard!" A voice shouted from afar.

The American turned his head just in time to see Cuba throw an opened water bottle at him. With lightning-fast reflexes, America swatted the bottle away from him and the object flew towards someone else. A resounding yell informed both English-speaking nations that the bottle had found a new target.

America grimaced slightly and called out, "Sorry Mexico, I honestly wasn't aiming at you!" The young nation's eyes widened and he suddenly ducked, barely avoiding a water bottle that had been viciously aimed at his head. "Okay…" America said quietly, starting to push England off his chair, "Let's go under the table, this might get rough."

Not knowing what else to do, England nodded and slid of the chair and went under the table. America followed shortly after, having to resort to crawling due to his size. But he and England weren't the only one who thought of seeking refuge under the table.

A handful of other nations had already crawled under the table, most of them being small countries that weren't much of military powers, such as Liechtenstein, the Baltics, a few African nations, a couple of Asian nations… a few of the nations were also under the table because they didn't feel like being dragged into the shenanigans of the others.

The fight continued to rage outside, many nations were running around, either pursuing or being pursued. Water was splashing all over the ground and many chairs were toppling over. England watched everything and though he did feel a tinge of amusement at the ridiculousness of the situation, he couldn't bring himself to fully enjoy it thanks to his headache. The whole ruckus sure wasn't helping improve it.

A few other nations crawled under the table, most of them drenched to the skin. A nation crawled in beside America and England and let out a long string of swears and curses in his language. America looked at the newcomer and chuckled sympathetically, "Wow, who got you so badly Portugal? You look like you were showered or something."

Portugal huffed angrily, blowing some of his soaking hair away from his face. He replied begrudgingly, "That idiotic Spain got me, can you imagine that he discovered one of those large bottles for a water dispenser and he emptied HALF of the contents on ME? Can you imagine that?"

America laughed, quietening down quickly when Portugal shot him a glare. America then questioned mirthfully, "And how come you're not getting back at him right at this moment? I'd have thought you would have paid Spain back for that shower."

"While he was chasing me with the half empty bottle, he crashed into Netherlands and spilled the rest of the bottle's contents on him. Last I checked, I was getting my vengeance completely free of charge from that guy. That hardly ever happens, and I definitely wouldn't want to interrupt Netherlands while he's being so unusually generous." At that, Portugal allowed a small smirk to appear on his lips as he looked from beneath the table to watch the scene unfold.

America followed his gaze and winced. "Ouch, yeah, I totally wouldn't want to interrupt Netherlands either. He looks pretty busy… errr, is he trying to shove Spain's head into…?"

"Yes. Yes he is." Portugal snickered gleefully.

While America and Portugal continued watching what was happening, England was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his mind focussed on what was happening around him. His headache was getting worse and worse and his vision was starting to blur.

Some of the nations had climbed on top of the table and continued their fight from there. The stamping of their feet was deafening, and the creaking of the table certainly didn't improve matters. England grit his teeth together as the sounds were multiplied tenfold in his mind, making the headache worse.

Odd, now the sounds were starting to echo. England noticed that the sounds were starting to sound louder and a lot larger. The Brit blinked his eyes, trying to understand what was going on. Was he being dragged into a memory?

Directly overhead, a nation tripped and fell on the table hard. The following crash caused England to shut his eyes tightly and grip his head as he felt his mind lurch forward in response.

* * *

_When England opened his eyes again, he was no longer in the meeting room under a table. The surroundings had changed completely, he found himself knee-high in mud in a dark trench. He was holding a rifle securely to his chest, his eyes focussed only on what lay ahead of the trench. _

_All around him, England could hear high-pitched sounds that then became large booms. Some of those sounds were distant, others were too close for comfort. A second passed and England covered his face when an explosion caused the dirt nearby by to come raining down. England became aware of other soldiers who were with him, all of them staring intently forwards._

_It was as if they were all waiting for an order._

"_Move out soldiers, move out now! Come on, quicker than that! Do you want to get hit by a shell?" A harsh voice barked out the order distantly._

_England and the other soldiers all jerked into action and climbed over the trench. They ran as quickly as their tired legs could carry them, many of the men stumbling. Shells fell from the sky like drops of rain, causing dirt to fly everywhere. _

_The Brit ran, trying desperately to ignore the sounds of the bombs exploding and the mutilated screams from the bleeding masses of what used to be soldiers. He couldn't do anything for these wounded men, everything was happening too quickly and the nation couldn't stop. _

_He and barely a handful of soldiers jumped down into what was now the front trench, the only thing that lay stretching before them was no man's land. And then there lay the trenches of the enemy behind no man's land. _

_England looked at the soldiers that had been in the trench before he and the other soldiers had arrived. He was shocked by the sight he beheld. _

_Some of the soldiers were looking dazed, seeming completely disconnected with what was going on. Their limbs were twitching and jerking uncontrollably, they could barely hold onto their rifles with their trembling hands._

_One soldier was huddled on the ground, curled up in a ball and lying completely still. Only the rapid up and down movement of his chest indicated that the man was still alive, though barely. _

_A couple of soldiers were sitting on the ground, rocking back and forth. Some were silent, others were muttering incomprehensible things. _

_But what horrified England the most were those who were completely cracked. These soldiers were still standing, but one could see that their sanity had been shredded to pieces. Two of them were singing loudly together, drunk on their own madness._

_One man was lurching around, laughing hysterically as he cradled a tin hat lovingly in his arms, as if it was a baby. He stumbled over to England with a wide crooked grin plastered on his pasty face. He giggled as he slung an arm over England's shoulder, "Look my fellow, this is my daughter! Isn't she the loveliest girl you have ever laid your eyes upon?" _

_England looked at the soldier blankly, not knowing how to react to the crazed man. England shifted awkwardly, trying to get away from the soldier. The Brit smiled nervously, "That's very nice…"_

_The soldier chortled happily and staggered away, whirling the imaginative baby around in the air. England stared after him, wondering how long this soldier was going to survive in this war. _

"_Forget about him, there's nothing we can do for him anymore. He's broken beyond repair." Another soldier said bitterly, siding beside England. The man looked at the other crazed soldier, sighing heavily._

"_Why is this happening to them? I can't understand…" England whispered hoarsely, looking at the unstable soldiers. Centuries of wars could have never prepared England for this. This had never happened in any other war. Seeing his brave men shatter like this, being mutilated from the inside. England had heard about this new "phenomenon", shellshock. But he had never seen it this bad before._

"_It's all because of this f*cking war." The soldier growled angrily. "The generals are sending us to our death while they stay safely behind the lines, thinking of us as nothing more than disposable pawns. Why are we in this war? What are we still fighting for?"_

_In another situation, England would have reacted strongly to this soldier. Normally, the nation would have told the human that he was fighting for his country. England would have told the soldier the glory that awaited them in the end, the pride and joy they would feel. Any other day, England would have told him all that._

_But now, seeing these mentally unstable men stumble around, limbs jerking and cracked smiles, England found himself questioning himself. What were they truly fighting for? Was it worth it? Or was the price his men were paying much higher than the award?_

_The shells continued falling all around England and his soldiers, shaking the ground and ripping into the atmosphere with their high-pitched cries. One of the men that had huddled at the bottom of trench suddenly looked up at the sky and joined in with the screaming shells, attempting to raise his voice over the explosions. Without a warning, the soldier jumped to his feet and climbed over the trench with two grenades in his hands, running into no man's land hollering his head off._

_England wished he could say that the soldier at least took one German soldier out with one of the grenades before he was gunned down by the Germans._

* * *

England felt himself come back to semi-consciousness, though he felt like he was stuck between reality and memory. The fight in the meeting was still ongoing, but it seemed like it was about to enter in a new phase.

"Hey, so that's where you guys are hiding! That's no fun now, isn't it?" England heard Prussia's gleeful voice and many of the nations were moving further away from the Prussian.

Lithuania stuttered, "Prussia, you can't use the fire extinguisher. That's certainly against the law here too, put it back in its place."

"Make me!" Prussia cackled, and suddenly there was a hissing sound. The nations under the table started stumbling and crawling away from Prussia, trying to avoid being doused by the fire extinguisher.

The noise and sudden movements of the nations caused something to snap in England, and he quickly pulled himself to his feet and made a mad dash for it.

The other nations were cursing Prussia as they were expelled from their safe refuge. Prussia was snickering as he went after Lithuania with his fire extinguisher. However he hadn't counted on someone else to stand up for the Lithuanian nation.

"You, like, totally leave Liet the heck alone!" Poland shouted angrily as he pounced on Prussia's back, pulling the German nation out from under the table and away from Lithuania.

America burst out laughing, Prussia's shocked expression was just priceless. The American had been on the far side of the table so he hadn't run in the danger of being targeted by the fire extinguisher. But then Portugal nudged him with his elbow into the side.

"What is it?" America asked, turning his head to look at the Portuguese nation curiously.

"Err… England ran off."

"WHAT?" America exclaimed, looking beside him to confirm that the Brit was no longer in his place. "Where did he go?"

"Not sure, I just saw that he had that odd look in his eyes again. Ireland explained that he had those eyes when he is in a memory phase?" Portugal asked uncertainly.

"Wait, he ran away while he was still in his memory phase?" America was stunned, that had never happened before. The American shook his head, "That's not normal, we have to go after him before he hurts himself. If he's running away while still in his memory phase, who knows what could happen to him. Come on!"

America crawled out from under the table, Portugal following close behind. The fight between the nations was still continuing, they seriously weren't showing any signs of stopping soon. Water bottles were almost extinct, the nations having used most of them. However, some nations had discovered a stash of fire extinguishers and the furious fight continued, the room becoming increasingly messier with all the foam.

In all the confusion, America looked around anxiously for England. If the Brit was running due to the memory, then he was bound to be disoriented and very confused. But if he was running because of the fight… where would England go? Someplace quiet, a place away from here.

His eyes fell upon the double doors that were still wide open. It would make sense that England went through them to get away from this commotion. America looked at Portugal and motioned with his head towards the doors, Portugal replying with a nod.

They quickly made their way out of the meeting, dodging the other nations and avoiding from walking in front of nation who had a fire extinguisher in their hands. No use getting pulled into a fight now.

Once they got outside, America and Portugal vaguely heard Germany roaring for the nations to come to order, but the German nation's voice still got drowned out. Portugal shuddered slightly and commented, "Germany is going to be fuming for a long while now, I hope Prussia knows a good place to hide. I'd rather not be in the room when Germany finally explodes in rage."

America nodded absently, his mind focussed on something else entirely. He looked up and down the hall, trying to figure which direction England would have taken when he was running. He then turned to the Portuguese nation and said, "Alright, I take right and you take left. If you find him, just give me a shout. Don't… try anything drastic."

Portugal rolled his eyes, "America, you're making me sound like I'm either Prussia or France. I know how to handle England just as well as you do, I won't do anything stupid."

The American laughed lightly, "Well, I was just checking." With that said, America turned to the right and went down the hall, just turning his head back once to see Portugal head the other way and turn around the corner.

The young nation started striding swiftly, sort of hoping that he had picked the right way. He also wondered how England was right now. Was he still in his memory phase? Was he terrified? Why had he run?

America continued searching for England, making sure he checked every corner and behind every furniture, in case the Brit had decided to find himself a good hiding place. The American was soon glad he had done that because about five minutes later, he found a trembling England hiding behind a large armchair.

The American crouched to his knees to look whether England was still in his memory phase or not. Though England's back was turned at America, he saw from his position that England's eyes were green and focussed, the Brit seemed to be completely connected to reality.

"Hey Portugal, found him!" America called out, hoping that his voice would reach the other nation and not just bounce off the walls of the hall. He turned his attention back to England and approached the island nation carefully. He asked quietly, "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm sorry for running off like that, the fight caused me to have a… déjà vu from a memory." England whispered quietly, shuddering. He didn't turn to look at America as he continued, "I was in the trenches and there were shells falling around me everywhere."

America grimaced slightly, that memory sounded like it came from WWI. The memories from that period were truly horrible, why the heck did England's mind decide to unearth that memory during an innocent water bottle fight? America reached out to lay his hand gently on England's shoulder and made the small nation turn around to face him. America was shocked to be met with wide dilated green eyes and wet cheeks.

"W-why're you crying England?" America stuttered out in confusion, leaning forward to wipe off a stray tear.

England blinked his eyes and sniffled loudly. He said inaudibly, "Seeing these soldiers in the trenches, their minds broken by the shells… I think I called it "shell-shock" back then…"

Shell-shock…? Ah wait, America had heard of that, wasn't shell-shock known today as combat stress reaction? Or PTSD? America hadn't dealt with it a lot in WWI, he came to know more during WWII where many of his soldiers got it, though his army had brushed it off as "exhaustion" initially.

"Hey, it's okay England. Don't cry, you couldn't do anything for them." America said comfortingly, reaching out to pull England into a warm hug. That's when he noticed that England was still trembling. America questioned, "What's the matter? Are you still scared about the memory?"

"No." England answered slowly, shivering slightly as he huddled closer to the American. "M'feeling cold." He mumbled under his breath.

"Maybe this will warm you up?"

America turned his head to look behind his back and saw Portugal, holding a cup of steaming tea in his hands. He walked over to America and crouched down to England's level, offering the beverage to the Brit. "Here, I'm sure you'll like this."

England looked at the tea curiously, reaching out for it cautiously. He took the cup from Portugal and brought in close to his nose, smelling the liquid. He noted curiously, "It's warm like hot chocolate but it smells different."

"That's because its tea, silly." America laughed lightly. He had to agree, giving tea to England was a good idea. The past England used to drink so much of it and it always seemed to brighten his mood up. He turned to Portugal and asked, "So, you heard me call for you?"

"Yeah, but then I saw this coffee and tea machine and I thought that it would be a good idea to get some tea for England, it's always helped his nerves a lot." Portugal smiled widely, turning his attention back to England.

The small island held the cup with trembling hands up to his mouth and took a sip. After the first guarded taste, England started drinking the tea almost greedily. America chuckled and asked, "So?"

England had finished drinking and licked his lips. "That was good."

"Feeling better then?" America asked, looking at England curiously. He frowned when he noticed that the island nation was still trembling.

The Brit shook his head, "Not really, but I think the tea helps a little. I still have that stupid headache though."

"Hey, it's going to be alright. That headache won't last forever." America smiled sympathetically and then ruffled England's hair. England frowned and moved out of America's reach, trying to flatten his wild hair again.

"Do you guys think we should return to the meeting? Maybe Germany has gained control of the situation again." Portugal proposed as he straightened up, looking down the hall where the meeting room was. They were far enough that they couldn't hear the nations anymore, but that didn't mean that the fight was over yet.

Still, they had to go and see.

America nodded as he stood up as well, "I suppose we could try and see, Germany can't get mad at us for leaving the meeting anyway. We have a justified reason for having left the room."

England pulled himself to his feet and walked to the nearest trashcan to throw the cup inside. Then he turned to the two taller nations and said, "If they're still fighting, then I'm just going back to the hotel. I honestly don't see the appeal of being dragged into a silly fight like that."

"Aww, but those fights are sometimes very awesome! I love being dragged into them, the fights let you get rid of your stress and lets you have some fun from these stuffy meetings." America smiled widely.

"It's interesting then that you didn't join in with the others. Why didn't you fight with them today?" Portugal pointed out, giving America a sneaky smile.

America looked at the Portuguese nation carefully, wondering why the other nation was smiling like that. The American frowned, "Well, I didn't fight today because… well, look at England's size! It would be totally unfair if someone attacked him, he wouldn't be able to fight back. As a hero, it was my duty to make sure that England would be okay."

"Sure you were." Portugal chuckled, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, so are we going now?" England called out to them, having already started to walk back to the meeting. America and Portugal only needed to take a few long strides to catch up with the Brit. The island nation looked back to see the two other nation towering over him and he huffed, "Show-offs."

"Nah, that's just a little hint that you need to start growing up again." America laughed lightly.

"I am growing, but not as quickly as everyone wants me to. I can't exactly tell my body to start growing more swiftly." England sighed, continuing to walk.

After a few minutes of walking, the three nations bumped into a dripping wet Lithuania and Latvia. Both Baltic nations looked genuinely miserable in their drenched state, though Lithuania also seemed to have some foam on him. They both stopped when they saw the others and Lithuania advised, "Don't go back to the room, the meeting has been adjourned and will continue tomorrow morning. We have the rest of the day off, it seems."

"So everyone is free?" America asked brightly.

"No, actually a lot of the nations will be staying a few hours in the meeting room. Specifically speaking, those who participated in the fighting and worsened the situation. Germany is absolutely furious, it took him about 10 minutes to stop screaming at the others for their immature behaviour." Lithuania explained, grimacing slightly.

"Germany is really angry with Prussia, he even promised that he was going to make Prussia wear a shock collar." Latvia said shakily, trembling from a mixture of apprehension and fear.

"Seriously, a shock collar?" America sounded astounded, both Portugal and England reflecting this emotion in their expressions as well.

"Latvia, I do think that was just anger talking. I doubt that Germany would do this to his own elder brother." Lithuania said doubtfully, looking for a moment uncertain but then seeming to accept that Germany couldn't be that angry.

"Well, I actually wouldn't be that surprised." Portugal shrugged his shoulders helplessly, "I mean, how many times has Prussia crashed a meeting in the past? Doesn't anyone else think he sort of has it coming to him with all the times he messes up these meetings just to get everyone's attention on him?"

"Yes, but Prussia does get often lonely. Since his dissolution, he's been restless. It must be very hard for him to accept that he's an ex-nation." Lithuania said sympathetically.

"I still think he's awesome, despite all the meetings he's crashed. I think Prussia comes up with great ideas on how to create chaos. I mean, you can't start a fight singlehandedly the way Prussia does. He totally knows what he's doing when he wants to start a fight." America grinned widely, no one could deny that Prussia was good at bringing chaos from order.

"Well, anyway, your absences were noticed in the meeting." Lithuania continued, looking pointedly at the three other nations. "But luckily, Switzerland saw you three and was able to tell that none of you participated in the fighting. So I suppose you three are free as well, the other nations who are found guilty of having fought have to stay behind and clean the room up. And they'll probably get a long lecture from Germany on responsibility."

"Do you think Germany will ban water bottles from now on?" Latvia asked curiously.

"Wouldn't that be a bit stupid to do?" Portugal pointed out, looking doubtful.

"It's a bit like saying we're not allowed to go to the toilet during the meetings. Banning water bottles is going against our rights, we have a right to drink. It won't be easy to ban them, that much I'm sure of." America crossed his arms and frowned, disliking the idea of having Germany ban something. He hated banning, it always made him want to do the exact opposite. He was then struck by a curious question, "Hey, aren't you guys normally three? Where's the dude who wears glasses… I mean, Estonia? And where's Poland? He seemed really angry last time I saw him."

"Estonia stayed behind in the room, he lost his glasses during the fight and he can't find them. Finland is helping him out now, Estonia told us that we could go and get changed first." Lithuania answered and before America could repeat his last question, he swiftly added, "And Poland stayed behind because he threw the fire extinguisher at Prussia and almost hit Germany in the face instead."

"Ouch, that certainly didn't help Germany's mood." Portugal stifled his laughter.

"Can we go Lithuania, I'm really getting cold now. The air conditioner is not helping." Latvia said with a shiver. Lithuania looked at the younger Baltic nation and nodded.

"Yes, I think it's best for us to return to our hotel rooms and get changed. I'll see you guys either later or tomorrow at the next meeting." Lithuania turned to the others and smiled at them.

"Yeah, see ya." America smiled widely.

Both Baltic nations nodded and continued on their way back to the hotel. America realized with a jolt that he hadn't heard England utter one word during the entire conversation. He looked behind him and saw that England was leaning against the wall, shivering just as badly as Latvia had done before. But Latvia had been drenched to the skin and the air conditioner had caused him to become colder. England wasn't wet at all but he still looked as if he was freezing cold.

"Hey, are you okay?" America asked worriedly, looking at the small nation worriedly.

"Yes." England exhaled shakily, trying to push himself away from the wall but winced at the attempt. He attempted to brush his discomfort off.

"You don't look like it." Portugal said, frowning anxiously as well.

"I a-am w-well." England replied, though his teeth chattered a bit. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, shuddering violently.

"England, you're clearly not okay!" America scolded, taking a step towards the Brit. He was convinced now that England was falling sick, no one would be trembling so much.

"I'm f-f-fine, I'm just feeling a bit cold and stiff in the shoulders…" England pushed himself from the wall and walked towards the two worried nations, giving them a tired smile. But neither America nor Portugal were convinced, the island nation was shaking so badly that he couldn't stay on his feet.

England wobbled slightly and fell forward, landing on his belly with a small "oof". America immediately crouched down and picked England up, looking at the small nation nervously. England was looking unnaturally pale and was shivering miserably. The Brit sighed, "I don't want to be sick."

"You don't really have much choice in this." Portugal smiled at England sympathetically.

America stood up with England in his arms, holding the small nation close to his chest. He asked warily, "Do you feel less cold like this?"

The Brit shook his head slowly. "Just feeling sleepy now…"

America turned to look at Portugal and said, "I don't think we can do anything else but take England back to his hotel room. He's clearly sick and isn't in any state to go anywhere else."

Portugal nodded uneasily, looking at England anxiously while the Brit continued trembling. The two other nations were to say the very least, mildly shocked by how quickly England's condition had deteriorated. This illness had struck England literally out of nowhere. America hoped that the illness would leave just as quickly.

England definitely did not need this!

* * *

**A/N:**

As I said, the chapter in itself is good but I might have messed something in the update or not. Please forgive me for that and be patient. I'll get back to everyone, first I just need to untangle myself a bit. I'm not thinking very straight right now! (but I'm not sick. Hope you enjoyed the chapter)


	38. Chapter 38

I apologize for having posted the last chapter is such chaos, I guess I was just completely focussed on getting the chapter on the site before I hit my one-month limit. That's the limit I set myself between posting chapters. Posting a chapter beyond a month after the last one was posted is a source of... uneasiness and frustration for me. :/ And I post the next chapter now (it was already half-written anyway) because the workload in the university is picking up again, have to prepare for a maths test, write a report for bio and start writing another essay for Celtic civilisation where I have to argue my case that despite the fact that the classical writers never referred to the original inhabitants of Ireland and Britain being Celtic, their observations made on these people clearly hint that they were Celtic. (*sigh* I'm going to have to cross-reference a lot of literary sources, huh?)

One thing I noticed lately about my OCs... I think they're kind of going crazy. ^^; Or... they're just getting an attitude. At least, Ireland is. He's becoming a bit cocky sometimes, he adores ranting and telling me his opinions, even when I don't ask for it. In one of my recent dreams, I saw a whole bunch of Ireland OCs with my Ireland. My Ireland was staring at them darkly, almost frowning. Especially at the Ireland OCs who have those Italy curls. And then he suddenly jumped on them with a yell and started pulling the curls out, and the other Ireland OCs ran away screaming. Ireland then stood there and laughed maniacally as he held a bunch of curls in his hands. Then Wales and Cornwall came out and grabbed Ireland's arms and told him to give the curls back to the other Ireland OCs. But then Ireland's, Wales' and Cornwall's eyes glowed white and they looked directly at me and said with an echoing voice, "It is not our nature." That sentence echoed twice and then I woke up with a jolt. My first thought was, "Ireland, wtf was that dream about?" And Ireland was laughing quite hysterically at the back of my mind, asking me how I liked his custom-made dream. Heh, very funny Ireland. Anyway, it just seems that the more OCs I develop, a double load of them keep following. Some OCs just sort of stroll in and their story literally spills out on paper. Others... well, I sort of have to drag them out by either their wrist or ankle, whichever way I can get a grasp on them. (yes, I'm talking to you Isle of Man, come on out finally!)

Well, hope you enjoy the next chapter! And Happy Halloween! (I don't celebrate it like that though, I just watch a bunch of scary movies. But Halloween was in actual fact a Celtic harvest festival. But the Celts didn't really party like wild animals on that night. Halloween was the night when spirits entered the world of the living and tried luring souls into the Otherworld. Going out on Halloween night for a Celt was the equivalent of just asking for a spirit to possess you. The Irish call Halloween night "Oíche Shamhna" and Halloween is known as "Samhain". Apparently the Cornish call Halloween "Nos Calan Gwaf". The Welsh call Halloween "Calan Gaeaf", you see how much Welsh and Cornish resemble? Breton is probably pretty close to that as well. Scotland's word for Halloween is most likely very similar to Ireland's)

* * *

Chapter 38

"England, how're you feeling now?" America asked worriedly. He was gazing at England anxiously, the small Brit had to be put in bed due to his deteriorating health in the end. He barely seemed to slip in and out of consciousness. After the three nations had returned to England's hotel room, the island nation had remained cold for long while, the amount of blankets America and Portugal had wrapped around the sick nation having no effect on him whatsoever. But then all of a sudden, his body's temperature had risen up swiftly and England had broken out into a sweat.

Portugal stood on the other side of the bed, placing a damp towel on England's forehead. It was almost frightening how quickly the fever had appeared and also how high it had become. Though there was no thermometer available, neither America nor Portugal were in doubt that the fever was very high. America had never seen someone sweat so much whilst having a fever. England's rapid breathing became raspy and when he was conscious, the Brit was always asking for more water.

After a moment, Portugal asked lowly, "So, you're saying that England's source of problems is his ego?" America had decided a while ago to explain England's situation to Portugal, though of course it would have been impossible to avoid the questioning when England had muttered during his fever something about the dark voice. But America figured that Portugal was a good friend of England's and so, could be trusted.

America nodded in affirmation, "England's healing would be a lot smoother if it wasn't for that stupid ego, it's always trying to convince England that he was an absolute monster in the past and that he should have ended his life."

Portugal frowned at that, "That sounds really bad, what can be done against that thing?"

America sighed, "Sadly, according to Canada, nothing. We physically can't do anything against his ego, only England has the power to fight it. So technically, we can only help by supporting England and repeating that whatever the ego says, it's complete bullshit. Then it's up to England to either listen to us or to the dark voice."

"So if England chooses to listen to his dark voice instead…" Portugal grimaced, unable to bring himself to finish that thought. He sat down on the ground next to the bed and looked at England thoughtfully before turning to look at America curiously. He then asked, "Have you guys discovered England's reason for trying to commit suicide yet?"

The America was surprised by the question. "His reasons?" America repeated apprehensively. "Not exactly, England didn't really leave us any suicide note and we can't ask England since he doesn't have the memories anymore. And I don't think we actually need to know why."

"But what if it happens again?" Portugal questioned.

America flashed him a determined grin and replied, "I'll personally make sure that England will never try something stupid like that ever again!"

"What about the others?"

"Others?" America replied dumbly, regarding Portugal in confusion. The Portuguese nation nodded firmly.

"Yes, the others. England may be the first nation in recent memory to have tried to kill himself, but we can't ignore the possibility that others have considered the notion a long time before him."

"But" America began uncertainly, "We can't really go around and ask the whole world if they're having suicidal thoughts. Whether they are or not, they'll not admit it to our faces just like that."

"True, but I do think that we should maybe try and understand why it happened. Maybe if we knew why England tried ending his life, we could avoid it from happening to others." Portugal explained.

"But suicide is not an easy thing to explain… and apart from England, no one else has tried before." America said uneasily, scratching the back of his head.

"We don't know that." Portugal said sternly. "Look at all the nations who are… unstable and the nations that are war-torn or are suffering from the economic depression. We can't pretend that a few of us have had suicidal thoughts in the past."

"Yeah… but I've always thought that suicide was mostly a human thing. I mean, we are nations, we are loyal to our people. How can we kill ourselves when our existence depends solely on our people?" America said, turning to stare at England.

"That's also something that confuses me. And doesn't this mean we're becoming even more humanized than before? Avatars, by nature, would have once never even considered suicide. Then again, back then, our predecessors would have killed the younger avatars instead of raising them like we did. Our mentalities have changed a lot since then."

Suddenly a third voice whispered quietly, "The… itsy bitsy… spider…

America and Portugal both looked at England abruptly and they stood up when they saw that England seemed to be completely awake. But England wasn't looking at them at all, he was staring upwards at the ceiling with a cracked smile.

The American stared up at the ceiling but couldn't see what England was looking at.

"…crawled up the water spout…" England murmured softly, his crazed smile widening.

"England?" Portugal said quietly, looking very worried.

But England didn't hear him. He only continued singing, "Down came the rain… and washed the spider out." He then let out a high-pitched giggle.

"England, stop. You're really creeping us out!" America exclaimed, walking towards England and shook him gently by the shoulders. England didn't react to America's words or his shaking.

"Out came the sun…" England giggled, reaching to the ceiling for the non-existent sun.

America turned in panic towards Portugal, who was mirroring the same fear in his expression. Portugal shook his head quickly, "This is really serious, we need to get help. England's fever is so high that he's become delirious! I've never dealt with this kind of illness, we need to find someone who does! But who?"

"I don't know!" America said in an anxious tone, sorting through his confused thoughts to find an answer. He quickly asked, "How about China? He helped England last time."

"Good idea!" Portugal nodded, turning to go out of the room when he stopped abruptly. He then looked at America and asked, "But is China staying in this hotel or in another one?

The American could only shrug helplessly, not any wiser than Portugal about China's location. To start with, were they even certain that China was staying in his hotel room right now? What if he was out?

"…and dried up all the rain…" England sang.

Portugal turned to the door again and opened it, striding out of the room quickly. And, in the process, crashed into Belgium who was walking by outside. Both nations staggered back and fell on the ground. Belgium winced and rubbed her sore shoulder, looking up to see who she had crashed into.

"Hey, are you okay Portugal? I honestly didn't see you coming out of the room. I'm really sorry." Belgium apologised quickly, getting hurriedly to her feet and offering her hand to Portugal.

The Portuguese nation shook his head and struggled to his feet, waving Belgium's hand away casually. "No, I should be the one saying sorry. I should have been looking where I was walking."

"You actually looked like you were in a big hurry and you still look a bit pale. Are you really okay?" Belgium questioned, cocking her head to one side.

"I'm looking for China, do you know if he's in this hotel or staying in another?" Portugal asked urgently.

Belgium looked at Portugal blankly and shook her head. "I have no idea where he's staying. Why do you need him, is there some problem?"

"England is sick but neither America nor I can figure out what he's sick of. I'm hoping China will have a better chance at identifying it. It's starting to look very serious."

"Maybe I can help?" Belgium asked brightly, looking inside England's room to try and see the little Brit.

Portugal looked at Belgium oddly, "But you're not as old as China, you don't have the same kind of knowledge and experience that he has."

The Belgian nation rolled her eyes and huffed, "Look Portugal, I worked as a nurse during WWI. Shouldn't that count for something?" Without waiting for his answer, Belgium walked past Portugal and entered the room. Portugal walked after her, sighing silently.

America was standing over England, trying to put the damp towel back on the Brit's forehead. But the island nation was constantly shaking his head and giggling, adding joyfully, "And the… itsy bitsy spider… went up the spout again!"

"England, stop destroying nursery rhymes by making them sound creepier!" America pleaded, trying to hold England's head. He looked up and saw that Portugal was back and Belgium was walking up to the bed. "Belgium?" He asked in confusion, what was she doing here?

Belgium hushed him and looked at England closely. The Brit turned his head to stare back at her, his pupils wide. After a second, England giggled and started chanting, "Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been? I've been down to London to visit the Queen…"

Portugal sidled beside Belgium and looked at her doubtfully, "So, can you tell us what England is sick of? He's completely delirious…"

The Belgian nation frowned, looking England over carefully. She shook her head, "It's definitely not an illness I've recently seen… but it seems unnervingly familiar. Too familiar. Wait, I'll go ask my brother." She turned around and walked to the door, looking outside into the hall and yelling, "Netherlands!"

About three minutes later, a door at the end of the hall opened and the Dutch nation in question poked his head out. He grumbled, "What?"

"I need your help!" Belgium called out.

"What for?"

"England's sick and I think you might be able to tell me what his illness is."

"You know I'm not a doctor."

"Still, come over!"

Netherlands sighed and rolled his eyes. He exited his room and closed the door, walking over to the Belgian nation. He grouched, "I can't understand why I'm still doing this for you, I'm certain I won't be able to tell you what it is.

Belgium smiled grimly, "Believe me Netherlands, I'm quite sure you will recognise this one."

The Dutch nation shook his head and entered the room, looking over to the bed. England had quietened down again and was humming softly under his breath, a tune that sounded a lot like the "Mary, Mary, quite contrary".

America muttered worriedly, "At least he's finally calm, but I'll never see nursery rhymes quite the same way again." He then looked at Netherlands and seemed to realize something. "Hey, why are you here and not at the meeting? We clearly saw you fighting with other nations, how come you escaped Germany's punishment?"

Portugal seemed to realize this too, "Yeah, we clearly saw you fight with Spain."

Netherlands simply smirked in response, "I, along with Switzerland, helped Germany to bring order and to pry the nations from each other. Germany thinks I was only helping him in stopping the fight. Spain wasn't too much in a hurry to report me so I was able to leave the meeting without a problem."

"Probably one of Spain's wisest decisions." Portugal commented with a chuckle.

Netherlands nodded but then he looked at England closely, taking note of the beads of sweat rolling down the Brit's forehead and cheeks. England looked upwards at the Dutch nation, frowning slightly at the other. Then his face split into a wide smile and he reached out, trying to grab the other nation.

Frowning, Netherlands leaned back and regarded England critically. He then looked at the expectant faces of America, Portugal and Belgium. Netherlands sighed, "I have a suspicion, like you Belgium, about what it could be but I really hope that this isn't it."

"What is it?" Both America and Portugal asked exasperatedly, finally wanting some kind of definite answer, even when it wasn't completely 100% correct. At least some kind of hint would help them a bit… though what Netherlands had said certainly made them both very uneasy.

"I think…" Netherlands began slowly, "it's the sweating sickness."

"The wha-?" America looked confused. He shook his head, "Never heard of that sickness, what kind of name is that anyway?"

"Exactly what it implies." Netherland nodded his head towards England.

"Well, it doesn't sound too bad, doesn't it?" America said uncertainly, turning to look at Portugal who just shrugged. But Belgium shook her head vigorously.

"America, if England does have the sweating sickness, then we're really screwed."

"But… why?" America looked at Belgium in confusion, suddenly feeling very uneasy about the Belgian nation's words.

"The sweating sickness is a deadly sickness. Back in its time, it killed thousands of humans before disappearing without a trace." Netherlands explained. "It was widely known for the high fevers and delirium that it caused to its victims. Many humans died within hours of the first symptoms appearing."

"And it was highly infectious, though we still don't know how it spread." Belgium supplied as well. "Actually, the sickness is quite mysterious in the way it appeared out of nowhere, wiped thousands of people out, and then suddenly disappeared. This sickness only appeared at Netherland's and my house for a very short while, disappearing almost over fortnight."

"That's why we shouldn't jump to the conclusion that it might be this sickness. We've only dealt with it for a short while and it killed relatively few of our people." Netherlands said thoughtfully, thinking back through his memories.

"But who got hit the worst by it?" America questioned.

At that, both Belgium and Netherlands gave crooked smiles and nodded at England who had finally fallen silent. "The sickness used to be a very common visitor to England's house, especially from 1485 to 1551, after 1551 it wasn't heard of again. The outbreak of 1528 actually went beyond England and swept through mainly the northwest, north and east of Europe. For some reason, the illness completely avoided the southern countries." Netherlands explained, looking at Portugal in particular.

The Portuguese nation scratched the back of his head, mumbling, "Now that you mention it, I do remember hearing something about this disease but since it never came to my lands, I didn't pay much attention to it." He then frowned, "But how can England have the sweating sickness? The virus hasn't been seen since 1551, wouldn't that mean that the virus is extinct?"

"That's why we're hesitating in saying that it is the sweating sickness, seeing as there is no possible way for an extinct virus to return out of the blue like that." Belgium said quietly, looking over at England worriedly.

"Is there anyone that could say for sure?" America asked impatiently.

Both Netherlands and Belgium grew thoughtful, thinking back on who else had gotten the disease. Belgium then replied doubtfully, "Maybe Ireland, if I remember right, he suffered two of the major outbreaks along with England. He should be able to tell us for certain whether England has the sweating sickness or not."

"Great, so all we need to do is call him!" America said enthusiastically, finally having the feeling that they were making some progress here. He was anxious to know what was wrong with England and hopefully he would also know how long England would be in this state. It just really made the American nervous being around a delirious England, it felt totally wrong and alien to him. He whipped out his mobile and started dialling Ireland's phone number.

"Err, America, I don't think Ireland will be able to pick up..." Belgium began uncertainly.

"Sure he'll pick up!" America countered brightly, not ready to be deterred as he pressed the call button. He fell silent as he waited for the Irish nation to respond to the call. A few seconds later, America heard the other nation pick up the call.

"What is it?" Ireland hissed, his voice so low that America had trouble understanding what the other was asking at first.

"Hey Ireland!" America greeted happily. "Why're you so quiet?"

"Because I'm still in the meeting, Germáin is making me and the others clean the meeting room up." Ireland grumbled lowly.

"That really sucks." America commented casually. "Anyway, I have a really important thing to ask."

"What is it?" Ireland whispered in a quiet tone.

"It's about Eng-" America began but a third voice on the other side cut in gruffly.

"Ireland, what are you doing?" Germany growled, sounding like he was in a very bad mood.

"It's Meiricéa, he wants to ask me about something important." Ireland replied.

"That can wait later, you have to clean up this room to my satisfaction." Germany barked moodily.

"I'll hang up, I just want to know what he wants." Ireland said calmly, trying to negotiate with the still-fuming Germany. But it didn't sound like Germany was in a tolerant mood at all.

"I SAID LATER!" Germany yelled, and suddenly the line went dead.

America put his phone down, frowning darkly. He turned to look at Portugal, Netherlands and Belgium and grumbled, "Germany cut Ireland off before I had the chance to ask him." After a moment's thought, he added, "But if we can't ask him on the phone, then we'll just have to ask him directly. I'm going back to the meeting."

"I'll come with you." Belgium said firmly, her green eyes burning with determination.

"Alright, and you guys will watch over England." America said to Portugal and Netherlands, to which both nodded but not before Netherlands let out an annoyed sigh. The Dutch nation had never appreciated being told what to do, especially when the orders came from someone as obnoxious as America. America, of course, remained oblivious to Netherland's thoughts and he then turned to Belgium.

"Let's go then!" America exclaimed energetically, turning and strode out of the hotel room with Belgium following close behind. Portugal and Netherlands looked at each other and then their gazes fell upon the bed-ridden England. He was staring at them blankly before he gave them a little coy smile.

The Brit then sang, "Porty, Porty, Dutchy, Dutchy, dance around to form a duchy!"

Netherlands looked at Portugal in confusion, who hastily replied, "Don't look for an answer from me, I'm not any wiser than you are in this. I have no idea where that came from."

* * *

America and Belgium walked through the double doors of the meeting, seeing that the room still looked quite soggy after the catastrophic water bottle fight. But most of the foam seemed to have been cleared away and a lot of the empty water bottles were already disposed of. America briefly wondered how the room must have looked like when Germany had a stop to the fight.

But he had more important things to attend to. Such as to seek Ireland out and find out from him if England was truly infected by the sweating sickness or not. However, before America and Belgium got the chance to start looking for the Irish nation, they were blocked by a glowering Germany.

"America, do I need to repeat myself? Whatever you want ask Ireland can wait later! Now he must, with the others, bring the room back to order for tomorrow's meeting."

"But the question is really important!" America protested.

"THIS is important as well!" Germany barked angrily, pointing at the room in general. Many of the nations that had been cleaning up stopped to see what was going on.

"Germany, this is about England's health! Surely that's more important than a meeting." Belgium spoke up loudly, frowning at the furious German nation.

Belgium's words caused Germany to snap out of his rage for a moment, looking at the Belgian nation in surprise while repeating, "England's health?"

"What's all this talk about Sasana?" Ireland questioned, walking up to America and Belgium with a worried expression.

"England's really sick Ireland, he has a very high fever and he's sweating a lot. And he's gone completely delirious!" America said urgently.

The Belgian nation added, "I think it may be…" She got nearer to Ireland and whispered quietly in his ear. Ireland leaned it to listen to her words closely and his eyes widened in response.

He jumped back and yelped loudly, "The sweating sickness?"

"The sweating sickness?" Half of the room echoed, many European nations jumping to their feet as their faces filled with terror and fear.

Belgium rolled her eyes in exasperation and she scolded the Irish nation, "There was a reason why I whispered the name to you Ireland."

"Sorry, but are you absolutely sure?" Ireland hurriedly questioned, looking quite panicked. "I mean, the sickness has been gone for so long. How can it have returned now?"

"I've never heard of this sweating sickness…" Germany said quietly, looking at America and Belgium doubtfully.

"Trust me Bruder, be glad that you never had to deal with it." Prussia appeared beside Germany, smiling nervously at his taller young brother. Germany turned to glare at the Prussian but then became aware of all the European nations present abandoning their work and crowding around the new arrivals worriedly. Germany asked curiously, "How many of you have gotten this sickness in the past?"

Ireland, Belgium, Prussia, Poland, Russia, Serbia, Croatia, Slovenia, Hungary, Romania, Denmark and many others of the European nations raised a hand, except the southern nations. France was looking a bit confused by the numbers, "Mon Dieu, I've heard of that sickness a couple of times before, but I never knew it went this far. The sickness never reached my lands."

The Irish nation looked thoughtful, "But I'm not sure, somehow I doubt that the sickness itself has returned."

Switzerland nodded firmly, "A virus that has been confirmed to be eradicated for centuries can't appear this suddenly. I haven't heard of any recent reports of this virus reappearing on England's lands and it wouldn't make sense for England to fall sick when none of his people are suffering from it."

"So, England's sick but at the same time, he isn't?" America concluded, sounding quite confused.

Ireland looked uncertain. He replied, "The virus itself isn't back, or else we would be all affected by it by now. But Sasana's body is re-enacting the pains he felt when he got that sickness."

"That sounds pretty messed up." Denmark commented, smiling sympathetically.

"But could you come to check on him to be sure?" Belgium asked pleadingly.

Ireland looked surprised by the request but then glanced at Germany hesitantly. He told the German nation carefully, "It'll only be a few minutes Germáin, I'll just go and check on Sasana."

Just as Germany looked like he was going to deny Ireland's request and tell him to get back to cleaning the room up, Switzerland took a step forward and proposed, "I could accompany them and ensure that Ireland does return here in a few minutes."

Ireland, America and Belgium looked surprised by the Swiss nation's proposition but Germany nodded in satisfaction. He said, "Alright, I trust you with that task."

Switzerland turned to Ireland and demanded, "So, let's go." America and Belgium started leading the way back while Ireland and Switzerland followed closely behind.

Germany watched them leave and then turned his attention back to the other nations who had all stopped working. He sent them back scuttling to their work with a loud, "AND GET BACK TO WORK ALL OF YOU!"

* * *

"So, what do you think?" America asked nervously as he and the others watched Ireland study England closely. The American had briefly explained to him what had happened to England after the meeting and how he gradually had grown sicker and sicker.

"And you confirm that no matter how hard Sasana tried, he couldn't get warmer?" Ireland questioned, reaching out to feel England's pulse at the neck. England tried moving away from Ireland, swatting at the Irish nation in annoyance.

"He couldn't stop shivering, which was the initial reason why we brought him back to the hotel room." Portugal explained, sitting on the ground beside the bed as he watched Ireland's ministrations.

America added uneasily, "But then the fever came very quickly and England just started sweating buckets."

Ireland frowned but nodded, saying, "Those are all of the characteristics of someone having the sweating sickness. He also has a rapid pulse and…" Ireland felt England's chest, feeling for his heart. "…and his heart is beating too quickly. Yep, he has all the symptoms of the sweating sickness, minus the virus."

"What can we do then?" America asked Ireland, looking lost.

The Irish nation smiled grimly and shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing, I'm afraid. He's re-experiencing pains that he's already had before. All we can do is keep Sasana in bed and hope he recovers soon."

"At least we finally know what he's really sick of." Portugal sighed, not looking completely content but what else could the nations do? There was nothing medicine could do here, the virus had disappeared too long ago to be identified and there was no known treatment against it. All they had really was patience, and a lot of strong will from England's side.

Though right now, England was nodding off to a sleep, the sickness having exhausted him. The nations were silent for a moment before Switzerland declared, "Okay, now that you've confirmed it Ireland, you can return to the meeting as promised and continue cleaning up the room."

Ireland pouted, "That's certainly the last time I'm letting Danmhairg challenge me to something…" He turned to walk out of the room, huffing under his breath.

Netherlands rolled his eyes and muttered quietly, "Taking any challenges from Denmark usually end badly, so he should have known better."

"I heard that!" Ireland called back from outside the room, his footsteps fading as he walked down the hall towards the elevator.

"Anyway, thanks for your help Belgium and Holland." America thanked gratefully.

The Dutch nation quickly corrected, "My name's Netherlands, not Holland. That's only the name that two of my provinces carry."

"Yeah, yeah." America laughed casually and turned his attention back to England who was now slumbering. Netherlands glared at the American but received a friendly nudge from Belgium who gave him a sympathetic smile.

Netherlands just sighed silently and left the room. Before Belgium went after him, she turned to America and said encouragingly, "Tell England after he wakes up in a saner state that I wish him to get better. See you all tomorrow then."

"Don't worry, I'll tell him!" America smiled at Belgium who returned the smile and left the room.

"Well, I better go as well and check on Liechtenstein then. She must be wondering where I must be." Switzerland commented thoughtfully, turning to leave the room as well.

Before he could though, Portugal abruptly lurched to his feet and hurriedly asked, "Err, Switzerland, could I discuss something important with you while you're on your way?"

Switzerland looked at Portugal oddly but just shrugged, "Yes, why not?"

"Well, then I'll see you guys in the next meeting, yeah?" America turned to look at Portugal and Switzerland.

While Switzerland just nodded, Portugal grinned and said, "Yeah, we'll see you tomorrow."

Both nation then turned and left the hotel room, leaving America alone with the ill England. Switzerland closed the door after them and began walking down the hallway, Portugal following him close behind. The Swiss nation then asked, "So, what did you want to discuss with me that is so important that America can't be included?"

"It's nothing against America, but I did want to gain a second non-influenced opinion and I knew I was going to gain one most likely from you." Portugal explained, feeling a bit uncertain at what he was doing. But he was doing this in England's interest, he wasn't truly hurting the Brit.

"What opinion would you want to hear from me then?" Switzerland asked curiously.

Portugal inhaled slowly before he started hesitantly, "It's… about England. And his attempted suicide…"

* * *

A few hours passed and night had fallen, telling everyone that it was time to go to bed. The nations in the meeting had been finally relieved of their tasks, Germany had in the end declared that he was satisfied with the work and he hoped that everyone had learnt a lesson.

Well, Germany hoped that a lesson had been learnt, he certainly didn't want something of this sort to happen again. But he was dealing here with nations who were easily riled up and enjoyed fooling around. Who knew how long before another fight broke out again?

For the moment, Germany was going to have to keep Prussia out of the meetings. For as long as possible. That Prussian was just going to start a new fight the next chance he got. Germany couldn't allow that to happen.

Ireland had eventually returned to his room, finding that America was still watching over England faithfully. After convincing America that England was going to be fine, Ireland had tried to steer the American out of the hotel room.

But America had immediately declared that he was not leaving England on his own. Ireland had tried to reason with America, telling him that England wasn't going to wake up anytime soon and that America could go and rest.

America, however, had remained adamant. He wasn't going to leave England. The Irish nation was a bit annoyed but he eventually relented, letting America settle beside England's bed. Predictably enough, America had soon nodded off, having nothing else to do but watch over England.

Ireland only became aware that he was the only nation still awake when America started snoring rather loudly. Ireland turned around and looked at the sleeping American, let out an exasperated sigh, "Typical, I knew he was going to fall asleep. I told him so but when did he ever listen to another nation?"

Still, Ireland went to look into the closet and discovered an extra blanket. He brought it over to America and tucked him in the blanket. The American smiled and mumbled something indistinguishable. Ireland let out a quiet chuckle and went to sit on his bed, taking out a book and settled down to read it.

About half an hour later, Ireland heard someone walk up to the door and knock quietly. The Irish nation put his book down and walked over to the door, opening it slowly. When he saw who was standing outside, Ireland grinned and greeted, "Hey, was about time you came Alba."

The Scot smiled apologetically, "Sorry, I had some things to do back home so I was delayed. And, after all, it's a long way from my home to India's home."

"Yeah, I suppose." Ireland chuckled, letting Scotland enter the hotel room. Of course Ireland suspected that there was another reason why Scotland hadn't arrived as swiftly as possible, but of course, Ireland could only suspect that. Scotland would definitely never admit that he was afraid of England's reaction to him now, though it was the most likely explanation for his delay.

"Uh… seems like we have a visitor here?" Scotland looked at Ireland curiously, pointing at the sleeping American beside England's bed.

Ireland rolled his eyes, "Yes, I tried to get him out earlier, but Meiriceá kept insisting that he had to stay for Sasana's sake so in the end, I couldn't get rid of him. But he eventually fell asleep so he wasn't much of a bother."

Scotland nodded in understanding, shifting his attention to the sleeping Brit. He approached the small island nation cautiously, laying a hand on England's forehead carefully. Scotland asked quietly, "Is it really bad?"

"I think the worst has passed but I don't know how long the sweating sickness will stay. Sasana might still be feverish and delirious when he wakes up tomorrow, so be warned," Ireland replied, walking over to stand beside Scotland. He added, "But don't worry about it Alba, he hasn't shown any hostility towards me which means that the memory hasn't changed his perception of us."

"More like it didn't change his perception of you, but you weren't there anyway. But I was…" Scotland sighed, looking very guilty. "And if he's going to be still delirious tomorrow, then he could react very negatively towards me."

"Which would be exactly the reason not to pay heed to his words if he still is delirious." Ireland said insistently. "It could always be his delirium talking, not really him. Alba, you're here to take care of Sasana because everyone else will be at the meeting. You're not on trial here, and no one will hold against you for what you did several centuries ago. You're not a criminal."

"I feel like I should be." Scotland muttered under his breath. He looked at Ireland and asked, "How many of the nations here know of the lake incident? You surely had to explain it to the others if England re-experienced the memory during the meeting."

"Well…" Ireland began hesitantly, "Only Meiriceá knows the true version of the story for now." Scotland looked confused by that, but before he could ask, Ireland explained, "I told everyone else about how Sasana slipped and fell into the lake and you didn't notice that he was drowning until at the last second."

Scotland was stunned and he spluttered, "B-but Ireland, t-twisting the truth around l-like that…?"

"Do you think I was really going to tell the whole world the correct version? And then have some nations label you as a monster and other nations claim you as their new hero? You know how much these nations love gossiping and scandals." Ireland said defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked at Scotland with determined eyes, "Alba, I'm sticking to you, just like you've stuck to me in the past. To all those who matter, I will tell them the correct version eventually in confidentiality. All nations are guilty of something, so I won't have anyone single you out just so that they feel less bad about their own deeds."

The Scottish nation smiled grimly at Ireland and shook his head, "Ireland, what I did back then was completely malicious and uncalled for. While in your case, it was more out of…"

"It doesn't change the fact that in both cases, we're guilty of having hurt someone we care about." Ireland interjected, but then he sighed as he looked at England contemplatively. "Or in my case, cared about. The biggest difference between these two cases is that you saved Sasana, while I… just…" Ireland trailed off, unwilling the finish his sentence. He returned his gaze to Scotland. "But that's why I don't see the need that everyone opens their closet to show off their skeletons to the world. Many of these closets are better off sealed shut forever. Living with what we've done is sometimes the only effective punishment."

Scotland exhaled softly, seeing some point in Ireland's words. He smiled gratefully at the Irish nation, "Well, thank you for doing that. I was honestly afraid of the others' reactions when I came here, I honestly don't fancy being called a monster. But I still have to worry about how England will react to me tomorrow…"

"It will be fine Alba, he won't reject you and I'm almost sure that he won't become hostile towards you." Ireland told the Scot reassuringly, patting him on the shoulder.

"Sure, though the last part you said doesn't sound very reassuring at all." Scotland pointed out, turning to look at Ireland with a small smile.

Ireland rolled his eyes, "Oh come now, you know what I mean." He then bit back a tired yawn. He added, "Well then, it's about time we also went to bed. I still have to wake up tomorrow for another boring video…"

"Err… where can I sleep?" Scotland asked hopefully.

The Irish nation turned to look at Scotland incredulously, slowly questioning, "Didn't you reserve a hotel room?"

Scotland's guilty smile was the only answer Ireland needed to know that the Scot had absolutely no place to stay for the night. It would always amaze Ireland how disorganized Scotland could be… but then again, it kind of ran in the family.

Ireland huffed defensively, "I'm not giving you my bed, you should have thought about reserving a hotel room before coming here."

"Ach come on, can't we share your bed?" Scotland asked, smiling sweetly.

Looking at the only bed available, Ireland frowned at the size of the bed but eventually relented, "Alright, we'll share." But he shot Scotland a sharp look and added lowly, "But I better not wake up later and find myself having to fight for my share of the blanket. I know how much you like to hog the blanket."

The Scot laughed softly, "Don't worry, I won't hog the blanket."

"Better not." Ireland nodded and just as he was about to turn and go to the bathroom, his mobile phone started ringing. The Irish nation looked at his phone on the bed in disbelief, wondering who in their right mind would be calling Ireland so late into the night. Staring at the annoying device for a moment, Ireland strode over to it and picked the call up.

Ireland asked gruffly, not in the mood of fooling around so late, "Ireland here, what the heck do you want so late? …Éilvéis?"

* * *

"But Switzerland, are you really sure about going through with this?" Portugal asked doubtfully as both European nations made their way towards the meeting room. The Portuguese nation attempted to look relaxed, however he couldn't shake of his slight apprehension.

The Swiss nation turned his head to look at Portugal and replied, "It was your initial idea that England's suicide and the consequences of it should be discussed further."

"Yes, but not so… publicly? I mean, if we discuss this in a World Meeting, we would be essentially talking with the entire world." Portugal grimaced, scratching the back of his head uneasily.

"I think it's a good thing to discuss it with the other nations. We've been doing a good job of ignoring and pretending that England didn't attempt to commit suicide but now we have to face this issue face on and make the other nations realize the importance of this."

Portugal shrugged his shoulders, "While you do have a point, I can't help but feel that I'm somehow betraying England's trust by presenting his case to the rest of the world so openly."

Switzerland stopped in his tracks and glanced at Portugal incredulously before snorting, "Portugal, this is far from betrayal. This is an intervention, an attempt to make sure nothing of this sort happens again. We have to discourage the nations from ever considering suicide as an answer to their problems. In your own words, we can't pretend that there aren't a few select nations in those World Meetings who haven't taken suicide into consideration at least once. Suicidal thoughts are rare, but not non-existent among our kind."

"True, we do have a few nations who need to brighten up a little…" Portugal muttered thoughtfully.

The Swiss nation nodded decisively, "Which is exactly why we must introduce this issue to the other nations. I've discussed this with Ireland last night and he's fine with discussing England's case. England is still sick in bed… so there won't be any awkwardness in discussing his situation."

"England's still sick?" Portugal asked worriedly.

"Don't worry, Ireland informed me that England is getting better, the fever has gone down a bit. Unfortunately he's still delirious. Scotland will be taking care of England during the meetings."

Portugal sighed but then he asked, "But how are we going to get the others to talk about suicide?"

"We simply tell Germany about it. Knowing him, he will open the meeting and start the discussion on suicide and no one can avoid it. Germany is certainly still fuming from yesterday so he will not take any fooling around lightly today."

"But I really hope we'll be able to have a decent discussion with the rest, even when they're not comfortable with the subject… I hope England will not be too annoyed at us once he hears about this." Portugal mumbled, it was no use to hope that England wouldn't hear about this World Meeting's discussion. He was going to find out, one way or another.

"Just think about his sake and the sake of the others. We're doing nothing wrong here, we're only helping the rest of the world understand."

"I suppose so." Portugal exhaled quietly, turning his attention to the double doors of the meeting that stood right in front of the two nations. Portugal took a step forward and opened one of the doors slowly, looking inside to see if Germany was in already.

Predictably, he was. Both Portugal and Switzerland made their way inside the meeting and started walking up to the German nation who was sitting at the table and going through his notes for the next meeting. Germany heard the footsteps of the two nations and looked up from his notes.

Germany looked surprised, "You two are quite early, there's still two hours before the meeting starts. Is there something important you want to talk about?"

Switzerland and Portugal looked at each other briefly before the Mediterranean nation nudged the other forward slightly. Switzerland shot Portugal an exasperated look but turned his attention back to the German nation.

"Yes Germany." Switzerland began slowly, taking a step towards the seated German, "We would like to bring up a very important issue into today's World Meeting…"

* * *

_Albion closed his eyes and sighed heavily. He looked upwards to the cloudy sky, wondering why the weather always felt the need to be as dreary as possible when Albion felt adventurous. The little avatar shook his head and hopped down from his rock and continued through the knee-high grass, traveling north._

_He had actually never considered travelling as far north as now. He wanted to see just how far his territory stretched. How far had his people managed to go already? Albion had bumped now and again into an avatar named Northumbria, one of the many kingdoms Albion's people had founded after having successfully remained on the land for several generations. _

_Northumbria was a quiet and sullen avatar, and had opted to ignore Albion in their first few encounters. Of course, curiosity had gotten the better of Albion and the smaller avatar had attempted to talk with Northumbria and understand why the kingdom seemed so… down. Unenergetic._

_After a few pokes, the Northumbrian kingdom had exhaled loudly in frustration and rolled his eyes. He then had gazed at the curious avatar sharply and grumbled lowly that Albion should never go north._

_And what does a young avatar do when they're told that?_

_They go north._

_Albion knew that Alba lived northwards as well, but luckily the red-haired avatar lived in an area that leaned more towards the Irish Sea while Albion was going on the other side of the island. Hopefully he wouldn't bump into Alba, he was still reeling from their last encounter and he knew that the Celtic avatar was burning to get back at him for the cut on his cheek._

_As the avatar continued north, Albion began to wonder Northumbria's reasons for avoiding the northern part of the island. Albion could remember a mere few decades ago hearing from Cymru about how much of a confident and arrogant bastard Northumbria was, and how much the young kingdom kept promising to bring about the destruction of the northern Celts. _

_But now that Albion had met Northumbria in person, the small avatar had to marvel at the sudden transformation from Cymru's description. Or had the Welsh avatar exaggerated at the description of Northumbria's character? It wouldn't be the first time, Celts were always bloody boasting and tweaking their tales to make them seem even more impressive._

_Albion stopped walking shortly, feeling that he had just passed the outskirts of his territory. Well, the territory of his people, but that was almost synonymous to Albion's. The small avatar frowned, he had thought that Northumbria had gone further into the northern territories than that. _

…_Why was Albion suddenly feeling very uneasy? He knew that what lay before him was unexplored territory, a land that Albion had never seen before. But his senses were picking up on danger signals, Albion's instinct was screaming at him to turn around and run back to the safety of his own lands._

_The avatar looked around worriedly, trying to spot the danger. He then spotted what was sending his senses into an overdrive. There was a lone figure in the distance, striding swiftly in Albion's direction. Albion narrowed his eyes as he tried making out who was coming towards him._

_Then his senses reminded him hurriedly that he had to go. He was picking up signals of another avatar, a very strong avatar. And then he got the other signals… dark and malicious signals. The approaching avatar's intentions towards Albion were anything but positive._

_Albion nervously looked around, realizing that it was too late to make a run for it. He had to hide, had to go to some place the other wouldn't be able to reach. Albion spotted a tree a few strides away from him. From the corner of his eye, Albion noticed the other avatar increase their pace._

_Making a small dash for the tree, Albion realized that the tree was situated on a small hill. That meant… Albion quickly climbed the hill and jumped down on the other side. He turned around and smiled._

_Perfect! Some creature, probably a fox, had dug a den between the thick roots of the trees, offering a perfect spot for Albion to get away from the other avatar. Albion's sharp ears picked up on the running footsteps of that certain other, alerting Albion of his precarious situation. _

_The small avatar hurried toward the opening of the den and tried to go in. When he felt that he was blocked, Albion briefly moved back to see why he couldn't get in. Ah yes, his bow on his back was blocking him. He took his bow off and pushed it first into the den. Albion then followed by squeezing himself through the roots. It was a tight fit, but that meant that the other avatar wouldn't be able to get Albion, as he guessed that the bigger avatar was roughly the size of a young adult. _

_Albion crawled his way further into the den and huddled at the far back, keeping his eyes focussed on the opening. After a few seconds of nervous panting, Albion heard the ominous footsteps of the other avatar. Albion held his breath, silently praying that the avatar wouldn't find him._

"_Come on out laddie, come on out. I know you're around here." A sweet female voice sounded from outside. It was so sickly sweet that Albion knew immediately that it was false. Albion remained frozen to his spot, not allowing himself to relax his tense body at all. Maybe the female avatar would go away…?_

"_What do we have here?" _

_Albion looked at the opening of the den and saw a pair cold purple eyes staring gleefully at the cornered avatar. Albion gasped quietly and pressed himself against the wall of the den. _

"_Come laddie, I won't hurt you." The female avatar lied sweetly, reaching her arm into the den and tried to grab Albion's ankle. Luckily the den was deep enough for Albion to avoid the other avatar. After a few failed attempts, the female avatar growled as she pulled her arm out of the den, "Tch, stupid roots. You found yourself a good hiding place brat."_

_The island avatar waited with bated breath as he saw the female nation stand up, hoping that she was going to give up and leave soon. But then his heart literally skipped a beat when suddenly the female avatar thrust her spear inside the den._

_Albion barely suppressed a squeak of fear as he scrambled away from the sharp point of the spear, the weapon almost grazing the small avatar. He saw the spear being retracted for just a few seconds before it plunged back towards Albion. The cornered avatar grabbed the spear and held it away at arm's length to stop the sharp point from piercing his stomach._

_When the female avatar started pulling the spear back and dragging Albion with it, the smaller avatar swiftly released the spear and scrambled back at the far back of the den again. _

"_You're a sharp lad." The female avatar grumbled as she pulled the spear out of the den, finally sitting down cross-legged in front of the opening. She looked into the den and studied Albion curiously. Albion was still breathing rapidly, trying to get his heart to calm down. He looked nervously at the female avatar, attempting to see who she was exactly. Her clothing implied that she was Celtic, but oddly enough she had pitch black hair instead of the more common reddish brown hair that the northern avatars of the island possessed._

_After a few minutes of close observation, she finally spoke in an exasperated tone, "Don't tell me you're that tiny blonde runt everyone's been buzzing about lately…?"_

"_I'm not runt, I'm Albion." Albion declared in a shaky voice, his heart was still pounding loudly in his ears._

_The female avatar snorted and rolled her eyes, "According to your idiotic bitches of fays. But you're not even the true Albion."_

_Albion huffed, anger clouding his voice, "I so am! The fays told me I was the new Albion of this island."_

"_Yes laddie, the new one. Because there used to be another Albion, she was there before you and she shall remain the true Albion." The female avatar said through gritted teeth._

"_I don't know why it seems to concern you so much." Albion muttered quietly._

_The female avatar let out a short bark of laughter, "Actually, it wouldn't usually. But, since she was my sister, I do choose to care that there is a brat like you strutting around and carrying her name so shortly after her death. You're not even Celtic to begin with."_

"_So you are a Celt!" Albion confirmed loudly, looking at the female avatar directly. The "who are you" was literally on the tip of his tongue now. But before he could ask the question…_

"_Of course I am." The female avatar blinked, staring at Albion oddly, "Don't you know who I am?" _

_A heavy silence followed that question, Albion staring blankly back at the female nation. Though he knew her to be Celtic, he had absolutely no clue who she was exactly. There were hundreds and hundreds of Celtic tribes and dozens of Celtic kingdoms. Albion couldn't be expected to know all of them._

_The female avatar looked genuinely surprised by Albion's lack of answer. "Huh, I'm insulted. You travel northwards into lands that are not yours and you have absolutely no clue of who you have before you?" _

_Albion remained silent, looking at the female avatar warily. She said she was insulted, but she didn't look particularly angry. The female avatar considered Albion for a few more minutes before she pointed at the brooch holding her cape together._

"_Does the symbol on my brooch ring any bell to you?" The female avatar said curiously. _

_The small avatar strained his eyes to get a good look at her brooch (he certainly wasn't going to move closer to the opening!) and after a moment, Albion was beginning to make out a picture of a strange creature… why yes, Alba had pointed this strange creature out to Albion about a decade ago! It had been one of those times when Albion had wandered north and had stumbled upon a rock that had many symbols carved into it, the creature being among those symbols._

_Initially confused by the creature, as he couldn't place what in the world in could be, Albion had asked Alba about it. His elder brother had just stared at the rock blankly and then he had replied that the creature commonly went by the name of… _

_Pictish Beast._

_Albion blanched as he realized that he had a Pict in front of him. Only a Pict would be carrying the symbol of the Pictish Beast… oh crap, what had Albion gotten himself into? A Pictish avatar? _

_The female Pict grinned widely, "I love those expressions when the other realizes who they have in front of them. It's really satisfying."_

"_Y-you're a P-p-pictish avatar?" Albion stuttered, staring at the female avatar in alarm and dismay. _

"_Not just any Pictish avatar." The female avatar laughed boisterously and then looked at Albion with a feral grin, "I'm Pictland."_

…_From all the stupidest things Albion had ever done in his short existence, this beat it all. Not only did he have a Pict in front of him, he had the avatar who represented the entire Pictish population. Picts were famously known for their ferocity in battle and they certainly were not the most pleasant people to meet. Albion had heard enough stories about the cruelty of the Picts and how fearsome they were in general._

_Pictland started snickering loudly, "You honestly didn't know that when you were travelling northwards that you were going to enter into Pictish territory?" _

"_I-I didn't t-think that the Picts lived s-so far north…" Albion answered helplessly, trying his best to calm himself down. Okay, he had a Pict cornering him. Picts were stubborn and determined, but on top of all that, they were fiercely territorial… how was Albion going to get out of this situation?_

"_Didn't you talk with that bastard Northumbria?" Pictland asked inquisitively._

"_Yes, but he just told me to never go north." Albion mumbled._

_Pictland sneered, "And of course you chose to do the opposite. But how is Northumbria? Is he still limping around? Is he still missing his pride?" The Pictish avatar let out a harsh bark of laughter._

"_He's doing fine I suppose…"_

"_Don't mock me, he'll never be fine. He'll never be the same kingdom who strode into my territory a few decades and declared loudly that he was going to force me to my knees. Well, someone was on their knees in the end, but it certainly wasn't me." Pictland smiled, a dangerous glint in her eyes._

"_So…" Albion said slowly and uncertainly, "If I came out of the den now, would you…"_

"_Kill you? Of course!" Pictland exclaimed. "You're trespassing on my territory, after all. Depending on how I feel, I could just make it swift and cut your head off and stick it on my spear. Or I could just skin you alive. Whatever tickles my fancy."_

_Albion was staring back at Pictland dumbstruck, his face becoming really pale when the female avatar described what she felt like doing to him if he was stupid enough to venture out from the den with her still around. So, he would have to stay here until she grew tired of waiting and would go, right? Oh dear… _

_Pictland burst out laughing at Albion's expression, "That's maybe the only redeemable quality you tiny brats have, you're always so naïve and easily impressed!"_

"_You mean you were not serious when you said those things…?" Albion questioned uneasily, feeling a cold shiver run down his spine in response to Pictland's cackling. She sounded so devoid of human pity and affection._

_Of course I was serious, I'd still kill you if I could." Pictland answered, a feral grin appearing on her face. But she then added, "Well, maybe not skinning you while you're still alive. That's barbaric even by my standards. But beheading you certainly. I do have a sizeable collection of skulls, though I'm certain I would have more if I also had the heads of every single stupid avatar like you that ever came wandering into my territories. A shame really that an avatar fades away a few hours after they have been killed or died."_

"_You've killed many of our kind, huh?" Albion muttered quietly, closing his eyes to push to the back of his mind the image of the unnamed avatar that he had killed a few years ago. That memory had haunted him ever since, he felt so horribly tainted by what he had done. Killing one from your own kind… Albion couldn't understand how Pictland seemed so much at ease of talking about how many avatars she had killed._

_Pictland shrugged, "When you've lived as long as I have, it becomes necessary to kill any avatar who's idiotic enough to imagine that they have any chance of taking my territory away from me." After a short pause, she added with a wide smile, "But I suppose you've already begun doing the same as well."_

_Albion looked shocked, "How did you-!"_

_The female avatar tapped the side of her nose, "The smell. An avatar who has killed one of their kind has a different smell compared to an avatar who has never killed."_

_The younger avatar cocked his head to one side in confusion, "The smell changes? I haven't noticed any change in smell, how can you tell the difference?"_

_Pictland rolled her eyes in exasperation, "I can tell because I have a sharp nose. You younglings are all becoming too humanized, you're losing your connection to nature. At least you'll never be as bad as Dál Riata, he's literally a human pet. Nah, more like a toy. He's a lost avatar, he'll die very easily. Honestly, I just slashed his eye once and he went blind? How weak is that?"_

"_He's blind?" Albion asked in a slightly stunned tone. Avatars healed far more easily than humans, any wound healed quickly without scarring, and any finger or ear that got chopped off grew back after a few days. Even having an eye gouged out didn't lead to blindness. _

"_Half-blind. But he's so closely connected to his people that he might as well be considered one of them. He certainly doesn't act like an avatar." Pictland replied with a sniff, she obviously held no respect at all for this neighbouring kingdom. She frowned as she crossed her arms over her chest tightly, growling, "He's also the reason I didn't manage to kill Alba while I still had the chance. Idiot, telling me that I can't go after him if he's not on my lands. Asshole."_

"_You wanted to kill Alba?" Albion looked at Pictland in surprise, he had always pictured Alba as a strong avatar, so he never imagined that Alba had any enemy he truly had to fear. _

_Pictland nodded her head vigorously and scowled, "He used to be a tiny brat like you once, he was born on my lands. But my stupid brother Éire discovered him before I did and took him under his wing. Both Éire and Dál Riata took care of Alba and made it clear to me that I can't lay a finger on Alba if he doesn't venture into my lands. And I'm sure Alba did, but he's very swift and he always managed to escape before I had the chance to notice his presence. Of course now, he's grown quite a bit and it wouldn't be a good idea for me to start a fight with him. At least I have the satisfaction of having killed all those who preceded him."_

_The female Pict fell silent and her expression became thoughtful. Albion shifted quietly in the den, feeling his legs cramp up from staying in the same tense position all the time. He wondered how long Pictland was going to stay here, he really wanted to go home after all. Honestly, all desire of adventuring had evaporated into thin air. Albion was plain terrified of Pictland, the elder avatar functioned on an older, more primeval, mentality that Albion simply couldn't connect with anymore. Pictland had a point maybe when she said that Albion and the younger avatars were becoming humanized. While the concepts of complex emotions and moral values were becoming more familiar to Albion, he doubted that Pictland was capable of connecting with such a "human" mentality._

_When Albion heard some rustling, he looked back at the opening of the den to see what Pictland was up to. She had stood up and was doing something, but Albion wasn't able to see what exactly. There was some soft murmuring and Albion cocked his head to one side to try and hear what Pictland was saying. No chance, she was speaking the language of her people, Albion couldn't understand her at all._

_But the structure sounded familiar… oh no, she wasn't whispering an incantation, was she? _

_She was, Albion could feel the magic inside the earth stir and move towards her as she started calling on their strengths. What was she up to? A sudden hissing and crackling in the air immediately alerted the small avatar what Pictland was probably trying to do._

_Pictland bent down to look into the den again and in her hand, she was holding several twigs and dry grass that were ablaze. She chuckled darkly when she saw Albion staring at the fire in horror. She laid her small fire at the opening at the den and explained her intent, "I want to see if I can smoke you out. Last time I checked, this is the only way for you to come in and out. Enjoy the smoke."_

_Albion looked around him in panic, noticing that Pictland was right about his piteous situation. He had only one way of getting out of this den and now smoke was coming into the den. But if he crawled out of the den, then Pictland would catch him and kill him. What could he do?_

_Thinking furiously, Albion remembered that he had a bow and some arrows with him. He looked behind him and saw the bow that he had pushed into the den earlier. He grabbed it quickly and reached for an arrow from his quiver that was strapped on his back. Despite the lack of space, Albion lay flat on the ground and held the bow diagonally as he nocked the arrow onto the bowstring._

_With oxygen making itself scarce and smoke clouding Albion's view, the small avatar prayed that he wouldn't miss Pictland. For now, he had the advantage of surprise as the female avatar was staying right in front of the den to catch him._

_He had only one chance to do this._

_Albion tried his best not to inhale the smoke and focussed on the location where he thought Pictland was most likely to be. Counting to five seconds, the young avatar released the bowstring and the arrow flew out of the den._

_A few milliseconds passed and Albion was slightly satisfied to hear Pictland cry out in surprised pain. While the Pictish avatar was occupied with the unexpected arrow, Albion crawled to the opening of the den and grabbed handfuls of dirt. He threw it on the small fire and smothered it within a few seconds._

"_NOW COME HERE YOU LITTL-!" Pictland screeched as she reached out for Albion. The small avatar quickly crawled deeper into the den again, panting harshly at the adrenaline rush going through his body._

_Pictland let out an annoyed growl and sank to her knees. Albion could see that his arrow was lodged into her abdomen, the dark red liquid staining her tunic. She looked at the arrow and then stared at Albion. She begrudgingly admitted, "You're a lot sharper than I give you credit for. However…" She turned her attention back to the arrow and grabbed the shaft of it. With a swift move, Pictland yanked the arrow out of her with a loud hiss of pain. She held the arrow away from her and pointed at the tip, continuing, "Consider making the arrowheads sharper, you want them to stay inside and really hurt the other. This one here is too blunt, I was able to pull it out too easily."_

"_Why do you insist on killing me!" Albion burst out angrily, still reeling from his close call from being smoked out and killed. "I never hurt you!"_

_Pictland snickered and pointed at her wounded abdomen, "Tell that to my bleeding wound, boy."_

"_Because you wanted to smoke me out and kill me!" Albion exclaimed exasperatedly. "But before that, I had done nothing to you!" _

"_But you will one day." Pictland interjected sharply, her purple eyes flashing. She leaned towards the opening of the den and stared Albion squarely in his eyes. She hissed, "One day, you'll grow up into a strong warrior and I know you will be thinking about how much older I am and then you'll think that you can invade me and defeat me and take my lands away. But if I kill you now, it will never happen."_

"_How do you know I'll do that?" Albion demanded, huffing loudly._

"_Simply because it lies in our nature. I'm an avatar and you're an avatar. You will try and expand your territories." Pictland sniffed and added, "Better crush the skull of pup before it grows into a ferocious wolf."_

"_You don't know for sure that I will ever be anything like you." Albion spat angrily._

"_But I do." Pictland smiled knowingly, "I can see it in your eyes. There's a burning hatred and determination within them. You want to prove to everyone your strength. Don't deny it lad." The Pictish avatar leaned back and sat down cross-legged, studying Albion closely. She then said, "You'll have to start learning how the real world functions. An avatar owes their loyalty to their people, and ONLY to their people. Other avatars may blabber on about friendship or family between avatars, but in the end, it's just all about surviving. Never trust the other avatars, they will only use you for their own ends. Crush your enemies and when you have the chance, turn on your allies and destroy them. That's the only way to survive."_

"_Really?" Albion questioned darkly, doubting Pictland's words._

"_Yes, that's how I survived for so long. That's also how that bastard Rome survived and look at how large his empire became. His downfall is only due to the fact that he relied on his allies. Éire may have one ally or so, but he's made it so far because he crushed his enemies as well." Pictland then sneered, "Then look on the other side. Look at my poor sister Albion. After Rome left, she didn't bother with fighting my people and Éire's people off adequately. Nooo, she goes with Votigern's plan and invites those dirty Saxons over to protect her. What'd you think those Germanic avatars would do to her? Kill her of course. And now look at her younger siblings, her so-called "legacy". Cymru and Kernow are being pushed to the brinks of the island because they aren't thinking like true Celts anymore. Breizh's already fled the island to live on the continent, her people being too cowardly to fight back for their right to stay." Pictland paused and then looked at Albion thoughtfully. She said, "And these invaders are your people, boy. You exist because of them, and they shall exist because of you. Don't be weak like Cymru and Kernow. Follow your instincts, and they'll lead to greatness. To hell with your humanity." _

_Albion was silent, too stunned by what Pictland had said to come up with a retort or a contradiction. She did have a point, Cymru and Kernow were losing more and more land with every passing decade and Breizh had left the island. And she and Éire had lived so long because their people were always ready to fight, always ready to crush the opposition. Even though Alba wasn't a completely bound avatar, he had also survived for so long because he was always fighting._

_Fighting… to stay on top. Crush your enemies. Stab your allies in the back when you had the chance. Though Albion's conscience protested against those immoral values, Albion himself realized that this was probably the best way to survive. Hadn't he survived this long because he always fought?_

"_Anyway, I'll see how long you'll stay in this den. Let's see how long you can hold it out, hmm?" Pictland grinned, standing up to hop on top of the hill and lean against the tree. Albion heard her voice from overhead, "Feel free to step out of the den when you can't take it anymore. I'll be more than happy to finish you off. We both have the time of the world, boy."_

"_I won't come out while you're still around!" Albion declared loudly, annoyed that Pictland was assuming that he was going to give in so easily. "You'll wait a long time."_

_In the end, Albion spent almost three days inside the den, barely getting a wink of sleep from fear that Pictland would use her spear to drag him out. Albion got the distinct feeling that Pictland resisted sleep as well, but he was certain that she wasn't going through the same agony of staying in a cramped and dark place like him. _

_During this time, Pictland would sometimes start telling Albion about some of her battles and violent encounters with other avatars. She told him of a world of slaughter, glory, blood and pride. A world where the strongest survived and the weakest perished._

_Albion hoped he would be part of that world soon._

* * *

**A/N**

And England did become part of that world... but it wasn't as awesome as he thought it would be. Ah, how naive of you England. If Pictland totally seems to hate Dál Riata, you're not far from the truth. However, we also say that there is a thin line between hate and love. Pictland's and Dál Riata's relationship in history can be best described as a love-hate relationship. At least, Pictland had a very twisted understanding of an alliance. She drags Dál Riata into an unwanted "union" twice, twice he rebels and reasserts his independence. It is only in the third time in 900 AD, this time Dál Riata initiating the union, that the merging was successful. Pictland also seems to love mocking Dál Riata, often calling him a "human pet" or a "human toy". She also pokles fun at him for having lost his eyesight in one eye due to an injury that she inflicted on him. (since, you know, avatars are known to have a very efficient healing process, a simple eye injury would normally not lead to blindness) You may wonder then, why have I made Dál Riata so weak compared to the normal standards of his kind. It lies in his name. "Dál" means in Irish "portion of land" and "Riata" is the name of the guy who probably founded the beginnings of this kingdom. Dál Riadt did start off in the tiny corner of Ireland but then moved to live in Scotland, where he got in conflict with Pictland a few times. I find it interesting since ancient kingdoms aren't commonly named after their founder like that. And come on, portion of land? It doesn't sound like a fancy name when you're surrounded by nations who are named after gods (Ireland, Isle of Man) or named after their people (Pictland, Cymru)... it does lead to wonder how come a strong kingdom like Dál Riada kept that name? Ah well, I support the pairing PictlandxDál Riata, even though I'm not big into pairing my OCs. A song that really defines Pictland's relationship to Dál Riata is "Natalia Kills - Break you hard". Awesome song, you'll really get a feeling of Pictland's personality in that song. Oh, and look up on the pictures of the Pictish Beast. Creepy creature, and there's a theory that this was the Loch Ness monster according to the Picts. O_o Whut? It certainly does not fit our perception of a snake-like creature or a plesiosaur. ^^;

Now, there's one historical reference not many people know about Northumbria and Pictland. Pictland totally kicked the hell out of Northumbria, destroying his pride so badly that Northumbria never recovered from the defeat. Here, let me tell you shortly what happened to Northumbria in 685 AD: This battle occurred in Nechtansmere, it was between the Picts and the Northumbrians. Northumbria had gradually expanded his territories, encroaching more and more on Southern Pictland and driving the Picts further north. Here's an extract from a history book on Picts that defined for me the relationship of Northumbria and Pictland: "Bridei (king of the Picts at the time) knew the power of the Northumbrians; he also knew that they were supremely confident and despised their northern enemies. Playing on their arrogance, he lured their army northwards into hilly, broken terrain where their superior strength and numbers were of limited value. Dividing his army into two, Bridei sent the weaker half forward to confront the enemy, keeping the bulk of his troops in hiding behind Dunnichen hill. After a short engagement, the weaker Picts withdrew back over the hill. The exultant Angles broke ranks and pursued them, only to come face to face with the main Pictish force, formed in battle array. Trapped by the Picts, with no escape except through marshy terrain at the foot of the hill, the Northumbrians were defeated with great slaughter. Their King Egfrid and his retinue were all killed. The power of the Northumbrian kingdom was broken forever, beginning a long slow decline until it was absorbed into the emerging kingdom of England." If that doesn't paint Pictland's and Northumbria's relationship perfectly, I don't see what does. ^^

Last note on our dear Celts. I seem to have made quite a mess without realizing it. Alright, we have Ancient Albion and Albion who later becomes England, right? Nope! We all know that the name Albion refers to the whole island, right? Scotland's name, Alba, I already knew that it was connected to Albion. But! The name Alba was apparently used by the Irish to refer to the whole island before Scotland's kingdom was founded in 900. The earlier Irish used the name Albion for the whole island, but the later Irish transmorphed the name from Albion to Alba. So Albion, Ancient Albion and Alba are synonymous to the same thing! Gah! Still, the mistake can be rectified by tweaking the idea around that Ireland named Scotland Alba, in the belief that Scotland would come to represent the entire island one day. (which never happened) Oh, and I don't believe in the whole Ancinet Albion being mother or that there was a Mama Britannia. I think the idea is too simplistic and throws an inaccurate light on the Celts. Sure, there was a Mama Greece and a Mama Egypt, but Rome was Grandpa to the Italies and China is known as the big brother. I don't think nations have have parents, it's simply a status an avatar adopts if they feel an affinity to the younger nations. Some want to be viewed as a father or mother, other as grandparents and others as elder siblings. Right now, I kind of group all the Celtic avatars like this:  
Ireland, Pictland and Albion: original three, Ireland represents the Goidel Celts in Ireland and Albion and Pictland both act as twins of Britain, representing the Brittonic Celts. (this gets later broken down into the Picts and the Welsh, Cornish and Breton) I'd say they're all similar age, appearing in the 5th century BC.  
Scotland: Appears between 2nd-3rd century AD, representing the Goidel Celts that came to live in the north of Britain. The name Scotland does mean "the land of the people who came from Ireland". You know, the name is based on the tribe Scotti, a tribe that came from Scotia (Ireland).  
Wales, Cornwall, Brittany: The next trio, they would be roughly born around 4th-5th century. (maybe earlier?) Albion is their elder sister, not their mother, according to my headcanon. My version of Albion honestly doesn't facy being a mother when she has to deal with all the crap of the Romans, the Germanics, the Picts and the Irish at the same time. That's my opinion at least.  
Isle of Man: I still don't know where to place him age-wise, I know he started out as a Brittonic Celt (connected to Wales and co.) but then Ireland kind of snatched him and converted him (rather peacefully) to a Goidel Celt.

Another reason why I don't support the headcanon of Albion/Brittania being the mother of Ireland as well: The standing theory on the migration of the Celts into the Isles plays out a bit like this: the first Celts to reach Britain were actually Goidel and they stayed there for a short time before the Brittonic Celts came to Britain and pushed the Goidel Celts to Ireland. It would actually be a better fit to have Ireland and the twins Albion and Pictland being rival siblings, always arguing over territory and stuff. I just don't like the image of Ireland being one of Albion's "children". X(

Great, long author notes is long. That's what happens when I learn so much about the Celts in one month. Alright, I'll try to wrap up fairly quickly. Most of the stuff about the sweating sickness, I've integrated into the story. I think it's really interesting, and to think I didn't know a thing about this sickness before writing this chapter. O_o I was just doing some research and then I stumbled on a page of mysterious sicknesses and when I found out about the sweating sickness and how specifically it targeted England before occasionally moving beyond to hit other nations. And then it disappeared as abruptly as it had appeared. Only two physicians bothered to write down the symptoms about this sickness, hope you guys enjoyed England's delirium. I actually thought that the sweating was due to a very high fever but for some strange reason, I read a bit further into the symtoms and found out that these two physicians never described an "excessive fever", possibly hinting that the sweating might be due to extreme pain. X( Thankfully, this is not certain and I had already written the chapter before learning that tidbit, so England is not in extreme pain, only delirious on the high fever. So, it wasn't really Ireland's fault, England just started to show the early symptoms of the sickness. But Ireland may have triggered the memory of the sickness, due to his unfortunate connection to that sickness as well. Oh, on a side note, totally look up on youtube "The Sweating Sickness Approaches". The music is awesome and it totally reflects the insanity and apprehension associated with that illness. I wrote the scenes with delirious England listening to that song A LOT.

Next chapter will not be easy to write, but I will try. Having the nations discuss about England's suicide is definitely not going to be a piece of cake but I suppose the nations do have to face this issue eventually. Hopefully the scene will go smoothly... Anyway, hoped you enjoyed the chapter and hopefully you won't have to wait too long for the next chapter! ^^


	39. Note and Sneak Peek into Chapter 39

I'm really sorry but this isn't really an update. No, this is not a note saying that I'm discontinuing or that the story is on hiatus, but... I need more time. The chapter is about 65-70% complete so I guess you might have to wait one or two more weeks. Sorry, university has been literally kicking my ass with all the assignments and assessments and now the exams are coming around. I'll have this week two exams but they're both very long and the revision is going to be extremely painful. (for biology alone, I need to review about 50 powerpoint presentations already) So yeah, I'm still alive but we can discuss whether I'll still be "alive" after the exams. Maybe you should expect the next chapter in two weeks. (where I'll only have 1 exam) I'll really try my best to get it done by then.

I decided to actually give you guys a sneak peek into chapter 39 because it should hopefully kickstart the story for you. I know how it is after a story hasn't been uploaded in ages and when you get the alert telling you of an update, you find yourself thinking "what was this story about again?" (I honestly won't take offense if that is the case, I know I've been horrible with updating lately) The sneak peek should hopefully encourage you to backtrack in the recent chapters so that when the full chapter is uploaded, you can pick right off where I left the story. But proceed with care, because the sneak peek will trickle off with another clliffhangar. And no matter how much you'll ask, you guy will have to wait two weeks before the rest of the chapter follows. I'm giving you a tiny extract of the chapter because I feel so horrible for making you guys wait for so long. And, on top of that, this chapter is very important in terms of England's suicide being finally discussed. Please be patient, I love all of you guys very dearly and I thank you that you're all being so patient with me.

In other news, I know that some of you guys are fond of my Ireland, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland characters so I've been wondering: if you could directly ask a question to them, what would you like to know from them? A historical tidbit or a personality tidbit? Well, I'm offering to those who are interested in writing out questions to these 4 particular characters and getting a response back from them. (with them answering through me naturally, they can't directly communicate with you sadly) Once the Christmas holidays start, I was thinking of the possibility of participating in the 100 themes challenge with my British Isles characters, writing oneshots for every theme. I thought with the first theme, "Introductions", that it would be a neat idea to have you readers ask my characters a few question so as to allow them to introduce themselves to you. So, ask questions, particularly with the theme "introduction" in mind, but you may ask also other questions. Only if you're interested of course. :)

I'll respond to all the previous reviews and PMs once the exam pressure has gone down a bit. Enjoy the sneak peek! (I know it's very short but hey, it is a sneak peek)

* * *

Chapter 39

America woke up the next morning with a stiff neck and shoulders. The young nation groaned quietly, stretching his arms before him until he heard a satisfying crack from his joints. It definitely was not a good idea to sleep on the ground in a sitting position, that much was clear from the stiffness in his limbs.

The American became aware that he was not the first one awake. He heard at least two other nations moving about in the hotel room. America listened curiously to the quiet voices of the others.

"Hey, Ireland…" An unknown nation began hesitantly.

Ireland hissed moodily, "Blanket-hogger."

The other nation protested with a barely contained low voice, "Hey, you started it first!"

"I would argue that it was you who started it." Ireland huffed.

America lurched to his feet, deciding it was best to show that he was awake now. He greeted Ireland and the other nation cheerfully, "Hey guys, sounds like you had quite an issue with the blanket?"

Ireland turned around and looked at America, smiling widely while he retorted, "At least we had a good night's sleep in a bed. How was the hard floor?"

The American rolled his eyes but then his attention focussed on the other nation, who turned out to be Scotland. America was surprised, when had Scotland arrived? It must have been very late last night, the American hadn't heard that the Scot was coming. He then narrowed his blue eyes dangerously. America remembered what Ireland had told him about what Scotland had done to England. He felt his blood boil at the reminder.

A tense silence fell upon the three nations, Scotland tuning in very quickly why America was glaring at him like that. The Scot bent his head slightly, staring at the younger nation warily and uneasily. Ireland looked confused at first, but then he frowned when he understood what was going through America's mind.

America suddenly demanded rudely, "What is he doing here?" America didn't even want to speak to Scotland directly.

The Irish nation bristled at the American, "Enough Meiriceá. You have no right to judge Alba for something he's done centuries before you even existed."

"But he tried drowning England!" America protested in exasperation. Surely Ireland couldn't be okay with that? Why allow Scotland near England?

"Oh, so you think I'm here to finish the job? Is that how you think of me now?" Scotland abruptly spat, glowering furiously at the American.

"Finish hi- no, I didn't mean that." America frowned and then shook his head swiftly, "I wasn't implying that at all!"

"Well, it sure seems like it with the way you were glaring at me." Scotland growled lowly.

"But you almost drowned England back then!" America pointed out, trying desperately to shift the blame back at Scotland. Okay, he hadn't meant to sound like he was implying that Scotland wanted to finish England off, but the Scot had almost killed the Brit!

"It was an ACCIDENT, I never meant to drown him when I pushed him into the lake! Just like you never meant to break his heart when you declared independence from him!" Scotland shouted, looking extremely pissed now. In his rage he had strode closer to America and was glaring him in the eyes.

* * *

**A/N**

I did warn you guys that it would be a cliffhangar. Expect the rest in two weeks!

Now, back to studying for me. *whimpers unhappily*


	40. Chapter 39

I am so sorry guys, I hadn't meant to post this chapter a week late but there was simply too much to handle with the exams and studying. (also check out the bad weather Scotland had two weeks ago. It's not called the "Weatherbomb" for nothing, it was seriously frightening. One of the wind turbines in the north spun so quickly that it exploded and caught fire) This chapter became too long once again so I had to cut it in half but now the other half is only about 50% finished. (which means technically that I should be able to post the new chapter in a week if I work diligently enough) So, consider this a Christmas present from me. ^^; I really promise to become more active, learn to balance things out more. I thank all the readers who have stayed faithful and patient with me, I really love all of you!

But anyway, this chapter was very difficult to write to be honest. To begin with, the suicide discussion! And it's not even over! Alright, I am not an expert in suicide analysis, so please don't call me out if there is an error somewhere in the discussion. I just wanted to make a continuous flowing conversation where the aspect of England's suicide is studied. There will be another discussion, but I had to get a breather from all the analysis. Seriously guys, I did not exactly enjoy writing this chapter. I really hope it doesn't feel bland, I think I may have prevented any decrease in writing quality so I really hope that my dislike for some of the passages are not obvious. Juggling all the different characters during the discussion… that was an utter nightmare!

Oh yeah, **TWO CHARACTER DEATHS IN THIS CHAPTER! **(wow, I must be in a Christmassy mood) Okay, don't worry your pretty heads over this warning. For one, it is in a flashback. Secondly, it's two of my OCs. So, this is just a warning of death and blood of two characters who are not canon.

Another thing to add: Though the canon India is proven to be a male, I kept my India character in the story as it wouldn't make sense to switch her for the official character out of nowhere. But I have nothing against the official India, I think I really like him. He seems like a kind and suave character. ^^ (I know a lot of people weren't happy that India wasn't a girl… but doesn't anyone see chibi India having the Mowgli from the Jungle Book potential?)

Alright, onwards to the chapter!

* * *

Chapter 39

America woke up the next morning with a stiff neck and shoulders. The young nation groaned quietly, stretching his arms before him until he heard a satisfying crack from his joints. It definitely was not a good idea to sleep on the ground in a sitting position, that much was clear from the stiffness in his limbs.

The American became aware that he was not the first one awake. He heard at least two other nations moving about in the hotel room. America listened curiously to the quiet voices of the others.

"Hey, Ireland…," An unknown nation began hesitantly.

Ireland hissed moodily, "Blanket-hogger."

The other nation protested with a barely contained low voice, "Hey, you started it first!"

"I would argue that it was you who started it," Ireland huffed.

America lurched to his feet, deciding it was best to show that he was awake now. He greeted Ireland and the other nation cheerfully, "Hey guys, sounds like you had quite an issue with the blanket?"

Ireland turned around and looked at America, smiling widely while he retorted, "At least we had a good night's sleep in a bed. How was the hard floor?"

The American rolled his eyes but then his attention focussed on the other nation, who turned out to be Scotland. America was surprised, when had Scotland arrived? It must have been very late last night, the American hadn't heard that the Scot was coming. He then narrowed his blue eyes dangerously. America remembered what Ireland had told him about what Scotland had done to England. He felt his blood boil at the reminder.

A tense silence fell upon the three nations, Scotland tuning in very quickly why America was glaring at him like that. The Scot bent his head slightly, staring at the younger nation warily and uneasily. Ireland looked confused at first, but then he frowned when he understood what was going through America's mind.

America suddenly demanded rudely, "What is he doing here?" America didn't even want to speak to Scotland directly.

The Irish nation bristled at the American, "Enough Meiriceá. You have no right to judge Alba for something he's done centuries before you even existed."

"But he tried drowning England!" America protested in exasperation. Surely Ireland couldn't be okay with that? Why allow Scotland near England?

"Oh, so you think I'm here to finish the job? Is that how you think of me now?" Scotland abruptly spat, glowering furiously at the American.

"Finish hi- no, I didn't mean that," America frowned and then shook his head swiftly, "I wasn't implying that at all!"

"Well, it sure seems like it with the way you were glaring at me," Scotland growled lowly.

"But you almost drowned England back then!" America pointed out, trying desperately to shift the blame back at Scotland. Okay, he hadn't meant to sound like he was implying that Scotland wanted to finish England off, but the Scot had almost killed the Brit!

"It was an ACCIDENT, I never meant to drown him when I pushed him into the lake! Just like you never meant to break his heart when you declared independence from him!" Scotland shouted, looking extremely pissed now. In his rage he had strode closer to America and was glaring him in the eyes.

America opened his mouth to retort but then closed it again, falling silent. He didn't know what else to say.

Apparently still fuming, Scotland ground out, "We've both hurt England in some kind of way, that's a fact. But don't you dare make me the scapegoat when you're just as guilty as I am of having hurt England at one point. I will NOT be labelled a monster. Not by you. Not by anyone else."

Ireland came between Scotland and America, staring at both nations sharply. The Irish nation said lowly, "Break it up you two, at this stage, both of you will end up waking Sasana. Meiriceá, the meeting is going to start soon so we both should go. Alba will stay here and take care of Sasana. Is that understood?"

Scotland nodded stiffly, walking over to stand by England's bed and crossing his arms over his chest defensively. America looked after Scotland, at loss at what he should say. He hadn't wanted to piss the Scot off this much, it was just an instinctive reaction from America to want to protect someone he really cared about. But he may have grossly miscalculated his position here, Scotland seemed to care just as much about England as America did. America felt like he had stepped between a hippo and water.

Not the wisest of actions.

"Are you coming?" Ireland demanded impatiently. America turned around to see that the Irish nation had already opened the door and was just about to leave, only turning back to look at the American with expressionless eyes.

Wordlessly, America followed Ireland out of the hotel room, only looking back briefly at the furious Scot before Ireland closed the door with a bit more force than was necessary. Then they both silently made their way to the meeting, their footsteps echoing emptily as they struck on the blue linoleum.

Scotland glared at the door angrily, still fuming over America's attitude towards him. How dare that American imply that Scotland had come to hurt England again?

The Scot muttered angrily under his breath and turned his back to the door, instead turning his attention to England. And found that the Brit's eyes were wide open, staring at Scotland fearfully. Scotland froze in his spot, staring at England carefully. The symptoms of the sweating sickness were still very evident, England was sweating profusely and he was looking at Scotland with a mixture of fear and confusion.

England broke the silence with a confused whisper, "S-scotland? W-what are you doing here? What happened? …A-are you here to finish me?"

Scotland looked at England with a horrified expression, unable to believe his ears. Was England so afraid of him now because of the memory? No… England had probably woken up during Scotland's argument with America and must have listened to what was being said. But with England still being slightly delirious, he had probably misunderstood the conversation and assumed the worst…

The elder brother returned his attention to England, a part of him wincing internally when he saw England cringe in fear away from him. Scotland had some explaining and reassuring to do, he couldn't let England believe that he meant him harm any longer.

* * *

Disliking the heavy silence between them, America attempted to strike up a conversation with Ireland. From his expression, America really had a hard time figuring out what the elder nation was thinking about. America began slowly, "So… how pissed do you think Scotland is against me?"

When he was met with a stony silence, America felt his gut twist around uncomfortably. Ireland couldn't possibly be also mad at the American? America pouted, "Hey, don't be mad at me too, I didn't say anything bad to you."

"I have every right to be angry at you," Ireland answered stiffly.

"Why, it's not like I insulted you or something," America pointed out hesitantly.

Ireland came to an abrupt halt and glared at America furiously. He said in a low voice, "Meiriceá, I told you of the lake incident to satisfy your curiosity over what had happened back then. I did NOT tell you that story so that you could treat Alba as a monster and outcast. Alba doesn't deserve such treatment."

"But can you ignore that Scotland almost got England killed back then?" America demanded in exasperation, surely he couldn't be the only one who found the idea horrifying? Why was Ireland taking Scotland's side?

The Irish nation rolled his eyes and growled in frustration, "And I put Wales in chains and almost sold him as a slave to my people! We've all made mistakes that have hurt the ones we care about in the past! But you don't see Wales constantly reminding me of that," Ireland then paused for a moment, adding as an afterthought, "But then again… he kind of did get back at me for that scare."

America was gaping at Ireland in horror. "You… you sold your own brother as a slave?"

"Almost. And it was just to scare him, nothing else. Listen more closely," Ireland huffed in annoyance at the American. He explained, "Meiriceá, what happened between Sasana and Alba happened in a time you can no longer understand or connect to. We took things more lightly, we teased and dared ourselves to do things that generally brought us in life-threatening situations. Life was a game for us, we rarely thought of the consequences."

"What happens then when these consequences come back to haunt you?" America questioned sceptically.

"If Sasana hadn't lost his memories, this memory wouldn't have been dug up again. For some of our mistakes, living with them is punishment enough," Ireland sighed and started walking again. As America fell in step with him as well, he added, "I've made many mistakes in my existence. And you've also made a lot of mistakes in the past. Would you appreciate it if someone, who isn't connected to them, comes up to you and rubs your past mistakes in your face?"

"Of course not," America answered quickly.

"Then don't treat Alba as a monster for something he did more than a thousand years ago. You weren't there and you aren't connected to this at all. This is something between Sasana and Alba only. He came here with the intent of talking with Sasana and mending any possible rift that might have formed from that memory."

Oh. Now America felt kinda bad for having been so judgemental so quickly. But it had been almost instinctive! How could America have known that Scotland had come to make amends? Though of course, America had never wanted to imply that Scotland had come to hurt England again…

America finally sighed tiredly, "So, how angry is Scotland at me?"

Ireland shrugged, "I'm not Alba, but you should know that us Celtic nations have a fiery temper and Alba is quite well known for keeping grudges."

"I'll try talking to him later then," America tried his best to look unconcerned by Ireland's answer but he honestly never liked it when someone held a grudge against him. America liked being liked!

"That depends whether he'll want to talk to you or not," Ireland chuckled in amusement when he saw the American try and pretend that he didn't care that Scotland was going to hold a grudge against him. Ireland himself was still angry at America, but it should be to Scotland that America should be apologizing to. Honestly, implying that the Scot had come to hurt England again?

The Irish then looked at his watch and made a sound of annoyance at the back of his throat. He grumbled, "Great, a few more minutes and we'll be officially late for the meeting." Ireland sped up his pace and broke out into a run.

America looked after Ireland in confusion and called out, "But they won't start without us, I'm still not there!"

Ireland answered distantly, "For Christ's sake, stop being so self-centred and hurry up!"

"Well, since everyone is finally here, we can start the meeting," Germany concluded, looking at the assembled nations sternly. He added with a dark frown, "And the events from yesterday better not happen ever again. It's shameful of nations who are several centuries old to act like silly children. For protective measures, Prussia has been locked up in my hotel room and he will not be released until the conclusion of the meeting."

A small wave of disappointed "awws" ran through the nations, though those nations quickly covered their mouths when Germany cast a glowering frown at them. Some other nations seemed to sigh in relief, glad that the Prussian wouldn't be able to drag the nations into one of his shenanigans again.

Germany continued, "Now, let us begin with the first discussion. I was approached earlier by Switzerland and Portugal about a very important issue that I feel we should all take a closer look at. The issue pertains to England's suicide and its consequences."

"Suicide?" The word was echoed, many nations repeating the word with either a confused or apprehensive expression. There was some shifting of chairs among the nations, none seemed too much at ease with the subject. It wasn't an everyday subject and it certainly wasn't a very light one either. America looked in mute surprise at Switzerland and Portugal who were still seated. Switzerland was focussing on Germany while the Portuguese nation was looking around warily.

Portugal's eyes met with America's and the Mediterranean nation smiled sheepishly, though he looked quite hesitant. America frowned slightly in annoyance, he knew that Portugal had wanted to discuss England's suicide more in detail. But he hadn't suspected that Portugal would make the issue so… public. America turned to look at Ireland and saw that the older nation looked uneasy, but not overly surprised. He must have been aware that there was going to be a discussion about it in the meeting.

"Yes, England's suicide," Switzerland repeated, standing up to look at the other nations. Germany sat down and the rest of the nations turned their attentions to the Swiss nation. Switzerland continued, "I think it is important that we understand what drove England to attempt suicide so that we can avoid it from happening ever again."

"That's kind of rich coming from a nation who supports suicide," Singapore huffed, standing up to look at Switzerland in determined defiance.

Switzerland looked at Singapore and bristled at her tone, but he managed to answer rather calmly, "I don't support suicide in most cases, but if you're referring to my two institutions in Schwerzenbach and Basel, they're only meant for the terminally ill who don't have long to live."

"So you do have suicide factories!" Denmark exclaimed loudly, looking at Switzerland with wide eyes. He quickly earned himself a harsh elbow in his side from Norway, who was glaring at the Dane in anger and annoyance.

The Swiss nation let out a sigh and rubbed his temples, "They're not "suicide factories", they're only two small institutions and only one of them accepts foreigners. And anyone who goes there to end their life has to go through a series of tests before they're given the pill. It takes about 6 months at its fastest for you to get the confirmation that you can come. Assisting someone in a suicide is legal in my country, but that does NOT mean that my people are any more tolerant of it than in other countries."

Singapore considered Switzerland's answer shortly before sitting down, still looking at Switzerland rather dubiously but not willing to start an argument with the European nation.

But then another nation spoke up, "But is it really worth it discussing England's suicide? What's the point? We can't go back in time and stop England from doing it. I don't think any nation would be idiotic enough to attempt suicide after England. We all saw how it turned out for him."

Switzerland turned his head to look at who had spoken out and he sighed in frustration, "Pakistan, be a bit more open-minded. We need to understand why England became suicidal so that we can make sure that no one else will try after him. It is not enough to simply assume that no one else will try after England, no one here ever expected England to be even suicidal. What if it happens again?"

"But what are the chances it will ever happen again?" Romania pointed out hesitantly, dropping his gaze to the table when Switzerland shot him an irritated glare.

"It's true, the number of nations attempting suicide is very scattered throughout history and I even doubt one of them ever succeeded," China added thoughtfully.

"Do we even know who was the last nation who attempted suicide before England?" Greece asked curiously.

"Everyone, do you honestly think that we would know the exact number of nations who tried to commit suicide? Would a nation here admit that they tried committing suicide?" Switzerland demanded in exasperation, looking around at all the gathered nations.

All the nations looked between each other, some of them shifting uneasily, but no one could answer Switzerland's questions. Who here would own up to having attempted it? Just because not many suicide attempts had been reported, it didn't mean that they hadn't occurred. Who knew how many nations in the whole history had been tempted to take their own life?

Pakistan, though, still looked unconvinced. He pointed out, "But England might just be a special case, an anomaly from the rest. How many of us could actually bear the thought of betraying their people and killing themselves? A nation represents the identity of the people. What identity do they have when their representation of them dies? England also had those hallucinations, who knows what influence they might have had on him…"

"Having the Sight has absolutely nothing to do with the state of mind, it definitely didn't encourage Sasana to become suicidal," Ireland growled, looking over to Pakistan challengingly.

India glared at her Pakistani sibling and she said lowly, "Look Pakistan, I know you're angry at England because his boss implied that you're a nation full of terrorists but you have to set that grudge aside for now. Would you want to come into… I don't know, Kashmir's house one day and find her after she tried killing herself?"

Pakistan glowered silently at India but he shook his head begrudgingly, looking down at the table. India exhaled deeply as she continued, "Then it would be a good idea to listen to what Switzerland has to say on the subject?" This time, though his eyes were resentful, Pakistan still nodded in agreement and sat back in his chair, stepping down.

Switzerland briefly gave a look at the India nation that expressed his thankfulness and he turned his attention back to the rest of the nations. After a moment of silence, Switzerland began, "I believe, to fully understand suicide, we need to go back to the very definition of the word. What is usually understood by someone committing suicide?"

The other nations looked among each other in confusion, wondering where Switzerland was trying to go with this. A few hesitant murmurs broke out among them, trying to figure out what answer Switzerland was expecting from them. Eventually Lithuania gathered his courage and spoke up tentatively, "It's the act of killing yourself, isn't it?"

"And why would one be driven to commit suicide?" Switzerland asked, looking at the Lithuanian nation sharply. Lithuania squirmed uncomfortably but did not answer.

Instead, Finland proposed hesitantly, "Is it because a very bad thing happens to them and they can no longer bear to live?"

"Partly correct…," Switzerland responded but then looked at the Finn, asking, "But would we be able to apply this description to England?"

Finland, looking unsure, shook his head.

"Ireland?" The Irish nation jumped slightly as his name was called out by Switzerland. The alpine nation questioned Ireland, "Did something bad happen to England recently?"

Ireland automatically responded, "No." Realizing that he had answered too quickly, Ireland tried to shrug it off and added casually, "But it's not like I keep tabs on him. But I would have remembered if Alba or Breatain Beag had mentioned something to me."

Switzerland nodded and turned his attention back to the assembled nations. He spoke thoughtfully, "People can be driven to suicide by one reason, but in most cases, it's a mixture of several reasons. Very often we might find that the trigger that leads to someone's suicide is, taken out of context, very insignificant or not even present. We know that England's decision to end his life was not based on a single event and, for now, we have no knowledge of what might have triggered him to act. We would have to even consider the possibility that there was no true trigger."

"But aren't there hints that show if someone is suicidal or not? Shouldn't they be easy to spot?" Belgium asked, staring at Switzerland with a confused expression.

Switzerland frowned and declared, "Everyone, raise your hand if you've never considered England to be the suicidal type."

The voting was unanimous, the entire gathering raised their hand to agree with the one thing they were certain of: absolutely no one had seen the suicide coming. No one had even suspected of the possibility. It had simply never occurred to anyone that the proud English nation could harbour suicidal thoughts.

The Swiss nation looked around at the nations thoughtfully and sighed, "As I thought. None of us ever expected this to happen, but it has happened. But we have to consider this too: Why do we usually assume that it is impossible for a nation to become suicidal and end their lives?"

Germany proposed uncertainly, "Don't we think it's impossible because a nation is connected to their people and wanting to end your life would generally mean abandoning your own people?"

"It could be seen also as betraying your own people as you are meant to represent them, and it is impossible for an entire population to feel suicidal at the same time. Meaning that feeling the desire to kill yourself doesn't correlate with the desires of the humans," Japan added hesitantly.

Switzerland nodded and explained, "So, we should consider why exactly England broke away from his connection of his people and became suicidal. What happened between him and his people?"

"Sasana did say two days ago after having recovered from one of his worst nightmares that he can't love his people because he doesn't understand how they can love a monster like him," Ireland contributed, looking tentative.

"But was that the original England talking or the current one?" China asked in confusion.

"Obviously there can't be an original England coexisting with the current England, that's too paradoxical. England hasn't shown any signs of having to deal with his past self and I hope he'll never have too. Imagine how difficult it would be for England to deal with two different selves?" Canada shook his head, frowning at the disturbing idea.

"But it's the same England, just with less memories," America cut in finally, bristling at the idea of two different Englands. It was too conflicting for America, he preferred to think that the current England was one and the same England. Sure he wasn't grumpy as before, but England's foul mood was not his defining traits. It simply was a nuance of England's personality…

Switzerland pushed his chair back and walked over to a blank whiteboard at the front of the room and picked up a black marker. He started writing quickly on the board and stood back to allow the other nations to see what he had written. "Worthlessness" was written in the top right corner of the board. The Swiss nation explained, "Going from what England said and how he must have felt several months ago, I'm assuming that there definitely was a sense of worthlessness in him. This feeling allowed England to disconnect from his people, he was able to convince himself prior to his attempted suicide that he didn't deserve to be the representation of his people. It is nearly impossible to imagine that England might have come to hate his own people."

"Angleterre? Hate his people?" France scoffed incredulously. He shook his head, "Angleterre was too prideful of his people, he could have never hated them. We don't always approve of what our people do, but asking a nation to hate their own people is like asking a fish to stop breathing underwater. It's natural for us to love our people, as it is natural for a fish to breathe underwater."

"But we shouldn't rule out the element of anger in England. He may have not hated his people, but he certainly was not of sound mind when he did try to kill himself." Norway pointed out calmly.

Switzerland nodded as he added in brackets under the word "worthlessness" the word "anger" with a question mark, seeming thoughtful. Then he asked, "Who was the last nation to talk to England?"

"It was Meiriceá, wasn't it?" Ireland questioned curiously, turning his head to look at America. Several other nations also turned their attentions to the American.

America shifted uneasily in his chair but managed to talk with an even voice, "Yeah… it was the day before the World Meeting at France's place. I called him and he sounded very tired. B-but I brushed it off at the time that he was just overworked, I didn't consider anything else."

"Well…it's true that England had been overworking himself a lot lately. It's not that unusual of him to become too involved with his work, so of course no one would have found that odd." Portugal confirmed, looking thoughtful.

Switzerland nodded firmly and questioned, "So, what does exactly overworking imply? Why would England start to overwork himself?"

The nations looked between each other, considering what Switzerland was trying to state with England's obsessive need to immerse himself with his work. Latvia eventually proposed nervously, "Maybe out of restlessness? When I don't have anything to do, I become restless and I make myself more work so that I can occupy myself."

The Swiss nation considered the answer shortly before turning to write the word "Restlessness" on the whiteboard.

Brazil spoke up as well with a curious expression, "Could it also be loneliness? When one is lonely, they make themselves more work so that they can forget that they are alone. That might have been what happened to England."

Switzerland wrote the word "Loneliness" directly under the word "Restlessness", linking them both together with a line with a question mark.

Japan added tentatively, "I suppose as a consequence of overworking, England was also more prone to falling sick."

"It's the reason why Alba, Breatain Beag and I didn't think much of it when we first found him after the attempt, we simply assumed that he was sick." Ireland scratched the back of his head uncomfortably.

"It should be noted though, a sick person strongly hints their present state. The gradual shutdown of their immune system is closely linked to their depression." Switzerland informed, glancing around at the other nations.

"But falling sick is also a sign of emotional instability, of repressing emotions." Canada spoke up.

The Swiss nation looked surprised by that contribution but he still turned around to write the word "emotional instability" on the whiteboard. He looked at the other nations, especially Canada, and asked carefully, "And what can be understood by emotional instability?"

"I know for a fact that England drank a lot and whenever he got very drunk, he would start talking about his days as an empire and how much he missed his colonies." Denmark proclaimed, looking a moment later to the side at Norway hesitantly. He let out a sigh of relief when the Norwegian made no move to punch the Dane for his loudness.

"Yeah, he definitely got drunk a lot." America added with an uneasy chuckle, but he wasn't able to make himself look more carefree. Everything they were mentioning… everything was so indicative of the England everyone knew before the suicide. But now all these traits were tainted with darker undertones, anything that had seemed silly or random at the time suddenly seemed to contribute to a darker reasoning. All these traits had been hints?

France nodded in approval, "Angleterre certainly missed his colonies a lot after they all got independent, even a blind person would have seen that." The colonies in question all shifted awkwardly in their seats, none fancied the idea too much that they had been a contributing factor to England's depression. It wasn't their fault that it had pained the past England so much to see them go and become independent nations.

"But there was also nostalgia. Inglaterra was very proud of the power he used to have over the world, he missed his pirate days." Spain proposed, not seeming very pleased that he of all nations had to bring that into the conversation. The Spaniard definitely DIDN'T miss England's pirate days, certainly not. Somewhere in the meeting room, America heard a phone vibrate silently. The American looked around but couldn't see where it might have come from.

Liechtenstein looked at Switzerland curiously and said with some hesitation, "Brother, wasn't there also unrequited feelings? England had these feelings for someone… and he repressed them." Switzerland looked at his smaller adopted sister evenly and nodded, writing on the whiteboard under the word "emotional instability" the words "solitude", "nostalgia" and "unrequited feelings".

America literally felt the attention of many nations shift towards him at the mention of "unrequited feelings" and the American resolutely looked down at his laps, unable to meet the gazes of the other nations. America then heard a phone vibrate again but this time he didn't look around and thus, remained unaware of whose phone it was.

"So now everyone," Switzerland began, turned completely around to look at the other nations. Whilst pointing at the whiteboard, he continued, "Can anyone here claim that they've never felt any of these things in their entire existence?"

His question was met by silence of a thousand answers. Every nation was silent, but the answer was clear in their eyes. Many of them were gazing directly into the eyes of the Swiss nation, telling him silently their message. Many more eyes were staring downwards, unable to meet anyone else's gaze due to the weight of their own messages.

After a few minutes, Switzerland nodded in agreement. He turned back to the whiteboard and wrote in the space he had left in the middle. When he stepped back, all the nations could see that he had written "suicidal thoughts" and then had drawn lines from all the previous traits linking them to the main point.

The Swiss nation said solemnly, "A cocktail of all these negative traits is all that is needed to drag someone downwards into a spiralling of thoughts that can easily tempt someone to search for a way out. Even if the ultimate escape is death. Apparently… suicide is not so alien to us as we might first expect."

A soft murmur arose among the nations, many shocked at how easy it seemed to be dragged into suicidal thoughts. A few nations started to look around, wondering how many nations had been victim to these thoughts. Who knew how many there were?

America heard the phone vibrate again, possibly louder than before. This time, however, America saw who it belonged to. Ireland took out his phone from his pocket and stared at the screen in annoyance, sticking it back in his pocket as discreetly as possible.

Germany still spotted the movement.

"Ireland, who has been trying to message you these past few minutes?" The German nation questioned sternly, staring directly at Ireland.

Ireland sighed in defeat, nothing ever escaped Germany's eyes. He answered, "It's Breatain Beag, he's been trying to contact me but I don't know what he wants exactly. I'm not trying to disrupt the meeting on purpose."

"You better not," Germany frowned before continuing, "Tell Wales that you are in the middle of a meeting and he can ask you whatever he wants to know from you after I've declared a break-time. Understood?"

"Yes, yes." Ireland sighed again, taking his phone out of his pocket and clicked on the latest message to start typing a reply to Wales. America saw that Ireland still took the opportunity to read the message and he saw the elder nation frown in confusion at the text. Ireland quickly typed a hasty reply to Wales and sent it. He then looked at Germany and smiled thinly, "See, done."

Germany nodded his approval and the meeting continued without another interruption. America did note with interest that Ireland withdrew himself from the discussion and seemed to be deep in thoughts, looking actually very uncertain about something.

What had been in Wales' message that had caused Ireland to become so uneasy?

* * *

Scotland inhaled deeply as approached the bed, going slowly on his knees to be more at England's level. He reached out carefully and put his hand on England's, reassuring calmly, "England, I'm not here to hurt you. I would never intentionally hurt you. What happened at the lake was an accident, I honestly wasn't trying to drown you."

"But it still happened…" England mumbled under his breath, looking away. Scotland sighed and leaned forward, laying a comforting hand on England's head. The Brit's eyes widened and he shook his head to dislodge Scotland's hand with a growl, "Don't touch me!"

The Scot jerked his hand back, feeling stung by England's rejection. He tried to remind himself that it was only England's delirium talking. Only his delirium. This wasn't England.

"You all say you mean well, but then you go and do something that only makes things worse!" England snarled, shaking his head and digging his nails into his skull. Scotland tried to pry England's fingers away but the small island nation snapped in irritation, "Leave me be!"

"But you're hurting yourself!" Scotland argued, not letting go until England allowed him to pull his hands away from his head.

"At least I know that this pain is from me, not from anyone else." England muttered under his breath, looking at his fingers. "I'm sick and tired of nations trying to tell what I should or shouldn't do. I'm sick of the nations who tell me what I should be. I feel controlled. I don't want to be controlled anymore! I want help, but not control!"

"But who has been controlling you?" Scotland questioned, trying with difficulty to keep up with England's thoughts. They were switching so quickly that Scotland didn't know what else to expect from the Brit.

"Wales decided for me to keep my past away, even though I had every right to know who I used to be and France tried manipulating me into accepting that I'm exclusively a European nation and he cut my wings without my permission!" England growled, his voice increasing in pitch as he got angrier and angrier.

"Wait, what did France do?" Scotland frowned, he was familiar with what Wales had done since he himself had gone along at the time when they had England's best interests at heart but what England had said about France was new.

England clutched at the covers and pulled at them in frustration, growling, "He didn't really cut my wings but it felt like it. He clipped them even though I didn't say he could do it. And I still don't understand why he tried convincing me that I'm a European nation and not a North American nation. I mean I can see that for myself but why he seemed to insist on it…" England then trailed off into a jumble of words that made no sense but Scotland had heard enough.

The Scot was quite annoyed. France had not mentioned any of this, even the part on the wings. Wales had told the Scot that he had advised France to clip England's wings to ensure that the wings wouldn't become permanent. However Scotland had never known that France had done it without England's consent.

Scotland scowled angrily, promising himself that he would have a stern word with France later on. He turned his attention back to England who had given up on trying to tear the covers and instead had resorted to pulling at his hair in anger. Sighing deeply, Scotland reached out to remove England's hands.

"Don't pull at your hair," Scotland said firmly.

England scowled darkly at the Scot and pulled his hands away from his elder brother. "Don't touch me!" He glared at Scotland before he burst into tears, pulling the cover over his head and crying into the fabric.

The Scottish nation felt very at loss, unable to keep up with the mood swings. Why was England crying now? Was he crying because he remembered France clipping his wings or was the trauma of the lake incident catching up with the Brit?

"E-england?" Scotland questioned cautiously, reaching out with his hand warily and petting England's head slowly. England stopped sobbing abruptly and pulled the covers away from him, regarding his elder brother with tearful eyes. He then hiccupped and launched himself at Scotland, burying his face into the Scot's chest. He continued weeping quietly.

Alright, Scotland decided that dealing with a delirious England wasn't any better than with a drunk England. All these mood swings were far too random for the Scot to follow. Scotland exhaled deeply and patted England on his back, "Now, now, why're you so upset?"

"I'm a monster." Came the muffled response from England, holding back a choked sob.

"You're no-"

"YES I AM!" England shrieked, looking at Scotland with wild eyes. Scotland looked at the younger brother in bewilderment but when England attempted to wriggle out of the Scot's arms and get out of bed, Scotland wrapped his arms around the smaller nation and pulled him closer. England yelled in frustration, "LET GO OF ME!"

"No." Scotland answered firmly, keeping a secure grip on the Brit. England briefly struggled against the stronger nation but he eventually gave up and instead dug his fingers into in Scotland's arm as he let out a small growl.

England muttered darkly, "I hate me, I hate me, I hate the past me, but the past me is me so I hate me but I hate the past me more, no, I hate England, I hate the past England, but I can't hate him but I do, but I am him and he represents a country, so then I am a country too but I don't like my people and a country shouldn't do that, right, but I can't understand them and I should love them but I can't and England should and I am England so what the hell should I do-"

By this point Scotland had stopped trying to follow England because he really couldn't understand what was going through the Brit's head. As far as the Scot was concerned, England was jabbering, borderline ranting. Scotland was completely at loss, he really felt helpless with how he should help his brother. England was still very much under the influence of the delirium.

His phone started abruptly ringing in his back pocket, making Scotland jump at the unexpected sound. England continued ranting, paying no heed to the device. Scotland reached for his phone and looked to see who was calling him. He couldn't help but smile in relief when he saw that it was Wales who was calling.

He swiftly responded to the call, "Hey Wales!"

"Hey yourself, how-" Wales began before he suddenly paused, as if he was listening to something. After a moment, he questioned, "Scotland, what is England talking about?"

Scotland looked down at England who was still chattering and was still making absolutely no sense. He grimaced as he replied, "England remembered the sweating sickness and is suffering from the delirium."

"Oh." Wales sounded sympathetic, although Scotland was unsure whether the sympathy was meant for him or for England. Perhaps both?

"Hey, would it be wrong if I tried knocking him out for a while? You know, spare him from a bit of his misery?" Scotland asked, sounding hopeful.

He could literally hear Wales frown darkly on the other side, "Knock him out- NO SCOTLAND!" Scotland winced slightly, somehow he knew that Wales wouldn't approve of his idea. Ah, he had tried at least.

Scotland laughed lightly, "I was just joking, relax… though a bit of chloroform wouldn't hurt him." England had quietened down to a nonsensical muttering but he had started to dig his nails into Scotland's hands. It wasn't excruciatingly painful, but Scotland still preferred to have England stop. He grasped both of England's wrists in one hand, effectively incapacitating the island nation.

Wales growled warningly, "Scotland, don't you even dare keeping those thoughts in your mind and I'll personally come over and knock them out of your mind."

"Calm down Wales, you know I was just joking. You should know me better." Scotland chuckled nervously, in no doubt that Wales would go through with his threat. The Welsh nation never joked around with his threats.

Wales sighed, "That's exactly the problem, I know you too well. Swear to me that you will not consider this thought again."

Scotland rolled his eyes at Wales' paranoid voice but he still relented, "Alright, alright, I swear on my imaginary grave that I will not consider knocking England out ever again. Now my little paranoid brother can rest easy."

"Very funny Scotland," Wales muttered but seemed to accept Scotland's words. He continued, "Anyway, I'm calling you for something different. I was doing some necessary cleaning up in England's house-"

"More like snooping around if you ask me," Scotland cut in humorously with a chuckle.

"Don't interrupt," Wales growled in annoyance, "I've noticed something during that time and it's been disturbing me for a while and I need a definite answer."

"What is it?" Scotland asked curiously, looking briefly down to note that England had fallen silent and seemed now to be listening to the conversation. Scotland noticed that the fever was going down, England's face wasn't beaded in as much sweat as before.

"Have you, before England's a-attempted suicide, removed anything from England's house just to annoy him?" Wales asked hesitantly, sounding very wary.

The Scot blinked in surprise at the question and he found himself shaking his head, "No, I didn't take anything from England's house. Why d'you ask? What kind of things are missing?"

Wales sighed tiredly, his tone sounding confused, "This just keeps getting more and more confusing. There are things missing in England's house, not things you notice instantly but the missing objects are still significant. But I can't find anyone who admits to having taken them. I called Northern Ireland but he said no, I texted Ireland who gave me a hasty reply of not having taken anything before telling me to stop pissing Germany off with my messages and you've just told me you didn't take anything either. This doesn't make any sense."

"But what is missing?" Scotland questioned perplexed.

"For starters, England's tea is missing. I'm not much of a tea-person myself, but I still find it highly odd that the cupboard that is usually bursting with various packages of tea is now completely vacant. I haven't found a single package of tea in the entire house."

"But England never allows the number of packages fall down to less than 10… what happened to all that tea?" Scotland frowned in confusion, staring down at England. It was highly unusual for England to have no tea left in the house, England couldn't live without tea! So how come there was no tea in his house?

"That's exactly the issue, I can't find any traces of where all that tea could have gone. All I know is that they're missing." Wales explained, sounding mystified.

"Is there anything else missing?" Scotland questioned warily, afraid of the possible answers. If the tea was missing, what else could be missing?

"You know those small embroidery pictures that England left all around the house. You don't really notice them but when you do look for them, you find them easily enough?"

"Those are missing too?" Scotland exclaimed, looking very surprised and worried. England looked at Scotland in confusion and he frowned as he mouthed the unfamiliar word "embroidery".

"Even England's embroidery kit with all his materials and needles is missing." Wales added.

"Is there anything… else missing?" Scotland asked carefully, tightening his grip around England. The smaller nation frowned and tried wriggling out but when that failed, he looked up at Scotland and tried listening to what Wales was saying.

"Some books are missing too." Wales answered quietly, "Not large amounts that it becomes noticeable, but there are gaps here and there that shouldn't be there. And I do notice that some of the missing books were some of England's favourites, such as William Shakespeare's plays and the Sherlock Holmes books."

"So basically, a lot of the things England liked are now missing…" Scotland concluded weakly, sounding very stunned.

"It would seem like it." Wales confirmed solemnly.

"What about England's rose bushes in the garden? I know he liked them a lot, he would easily spend hours gardening on them. Are they…" Scotland trailed off, not able to finish the question he dreaded the answer to.

The dreaded answer came, "Sorry Scotland, I checked that too. They're gone, I can't even find the roots. Incidentally I met England's fays in the garden and they told me that England destroyed the rose bushes about a week before he tried killing himself. When the fays asked him why, he simply said that he was sick of looking at them."

"What the bloody hell…" Scotland whispered, tightening his grip on his phone. "So I suppose we should also assume that the missing things in England's house were destroyed by England?"

"It is a possibility…" Wales said hesitantly and Scotland could hear that the Welsh nation was beginning to pace around.

"But why would England destroy his favourite things? That doesn't make any sense at all." Scotland demanded, briefly looking down at England.

"How should I know?" Wales sighed, "All I know is that things are missing, possibly destroyed, and it must have happened shortly before the suic-" Suddenly Scotland heard Wales bump into something and many objects crashed loudly to the ground, Wales crying out in surprise and then cursing in Welsh.

"Wales? Hey, are you alright?" Scotland called into the phone, wondering what Wales had bumped into.

"I'm fine, I wasn't hurt. I just bumped into England's office desk, why in the world would he stack so many papers and books on top of each other so close to the edge? Gah, look at all that mess! Why England left his desk so messy is beyond me, it's another thing that is not normal of him. Look at all these books-" Wales abruptly fell silent.

"…Wales? Hello? Are you still there?" Scotland questioned, confused by why Wales had suddenly become so silent.

When Wales spoke again, something clearly was not alright. The Welsh nation shakily said, "I'll call you later Scotland, I found something here that is not… it's not normal and I have a really bad feeling about this…"

"What did you find? Wales, don't hang up on me!" Scotland was really perplexed now, what had his brother found that had so visibly shaken him?

"Don't worry, they're just books. I am more worried about their possible contents. The titles are not reassuring at all but I need to take a look at them before I go and make an assumption about this. I'll call again once I'm certain of what I have here." And then with a click, Wales hung up on the Scot.

Scotland looked at his phone wordlessly, wishing he knew what Wales had found. His curiosity had been piqued and he really wanted to know what books had Wales found. What were the titles of the books and what exactly did they contain? But he wouldn't know any of that until Wales called him back.

"Scotland?" England rasped out uncertainly. Scotland looked down and saw that England was staring at him with just as much confusion as the Scot felt. England whispered, "Why did I destroy the very things that I liked?"

The Scot sighed and shook his head, "I don't know England, I honestly don't know what was going through your head before you attempted to kill yourself." He noticed that England was looking quite tired and less sick. It seemed like England was recovering but it seemed like his delirium had exhausted the Brit again. By the way England's head was lolling, Scotland could see that England was almost giving in to sleep. England would be definitely free from the influences of the sweating sickness next time he woke up. Scotland said encouragingly, "Go on, you need your sleep. You're almost free from your sickness."

"But I don't want to sleep." England huffed before he bit back a yawn. "I've slept enough. I'm not sleepy." He yawned again.

"Your body begs to differ England." Scotland chuckled lightly before he nudged England off of him and made him move back towards the head of the bed. Scotland then stood up and pulled the covers to tuck England in. The Scot then said, "Your body needs to rest England. Don't resist it."

England frowned sleepily, muttering, "If I sleep, I'll have nightmares again." But he turned on his side, pulling the covers closer to him. He mumbled before he fell asleep, "I… really hate… England." Then England nodded off.

Scotland sighed tiredly, running a hand through his red hair. He would have to talk with England later on, the Brit couldn't continue hating himself like that. But other nations had already tried to talk with England, and the dark voice kept dragging England back into his depression.

Somehow Scotland had to do something different. Something more convincing. Words alone weren't enough. England had to see with his own eyes. But how could Scotland show England one of the possible consequences of when an avatar stops loving what they're meant to represent?

He then remembered something important. Memories. Scotland did have a memory where the Scot himself had seen what happens when a nation stops loving their people. Maybe he should show this to England? England managed to let America into his memory, couldn't the reverse be possible?

Well, it all was a question of channelling the flow of magic just right. Scotland wasn't the best at magic, but this should be simple enough to do, no?

* * *

_Darkness, darkness, far away and yet so near. Hide from me the things I fear. _

_England sighed as these words rang through his head. He shook his head in an effort to drive them out, simply because he didn't want to think anymore. He was sick and tired of being plagued by his fears and pains. He didn't want to see anymore. How could England be a worthy representation of his people? How could they not hate him, with all the bad things he had done? Why weren't they ashamed of his past, their ancestors' past? _

_But as much as England tried, he couldn't bring himself to be angry at his people. He couldn't hate them. He wished he could, but he didn't. The Brit didn't love his people, but he still felt a strong connection to them. His people were like his children… could you make a mother hate her own child?_

_The island nation exhaled deeply and started walking in the darkness, hoping to get out from the storm of his thoughts. But he felt too entangled by them. Numerous questions kept creeping to the surface of his consciousness. Why did his people follow him? Why couldn't England find it in him to love them as he used to? Why did England doubt their loyalty that ran richly through his veins? Were his people blind to his flaws? Were they blind to the mistakes that marred England's body like scars? Why was England's history always catching up with him? Why? Why? Why…_

_Stop. England came to an abrupt halt, clenching his eyes shut and balling his hands into fists. Absolute silence followed and England firmly kept his mind blank, locking away his determined questions._

_England blinked in surprise when he felt the ground shift beneath his feet. He opened his eyes wide to look what was happening. Was the dark voice going to come now and torture the nation some more? _

_No, he couldn't feel the oppressive presence of the hateful being. But there was something odd, something had changed. One moment he was in the darkness of his mind and then suddenly… well, it was still very dark, but somehow it didn't feel like the usual darkness. It felt… different. Like England didn't exactly belong in this darkness. It felt, somehow, unfamiliar to him._

"_That's because this isn't your darkness of the mind." A familiar voice spoke out suddenly._

_The Brit spun around to look who was here with him. His eyes widened with disbelief when he saw Scotland walk up to him. He looked up at his older brother and spluttered, "W-what are you doing here? Actually, where is here?" _

"_You're in my mind." Scotland grinned widely, seeming triumphant._

_England frowned in confusion, "But how did I do that? What did I do this time?" The Brit was perplexed, he knew that America could land in his mind when the American grasped his hand but it was something completely new that he was also able to gain access to someone else's mind. How in the world had he achieved that?_

_Scotland chuckled and shook his head, "Nay, I'm behind this. I'm actually surprised it worked, seeing as I'm usually useless at magic. But as Ireland says, it's all about channelling it correctly. I must have done something right, even though I have no clue how exactly I managed."_

"_Wait, so you willingly pulled me into your mind?" England questioned, looking at the Scot in surprise. Why would he do that? _

_His elder brother cocked his head to one side and instead of answering England's question, he asked, "Are you still feeling the effects of delirium? It must have worn off by now."_

"_I feel fine now…" England began uncertainly, before he inquired, "Why, was it really bad? I don't remember anything to be honest." England had the sinking feeling that his high fever had caused him to go a bit loony, he had no clue what he had said or done during the duration of his sickness._

"_It was… not the best." Scotland admitted, grimacing slightly. He sighed as he explained, "Look England, you're here because while you were delirious… you said some unsettling things and even though you were under the influence of delirium, I do think you meant the words and I think it's better to show you rather than tell you."_

"…_What are you talking about?" England felt confused, what the hell had he said during his sickness?_

"_About you being unable to love your people." Scotland replied, looking at England with sad eyes._

_England's eyes hardened and he looked at the ground, biting the insides of his cheeks in uneasiness. He said tonelessly, "Well, I can't love people. I'm not worth it-" Scotland suddenly grasped his chin and forced England to look up at him. _

_The Scot was frowning darkly. "Don't. Repeat. These. Words. Knock them out of your head. Right now. Those are not your words. Your ego is behind them," Scotland sighed as he released England's chin and straightened up. He offered his hand to England and explained, "Come with me, I have a memory that shows you the negative consequences of what happens when an avatar stops loving the people they were attached to."_

_The small avatar looked at Scotland dubiously, not entirely sure whether he should come along with the Scot or not. He was surprised and slightly curious about the fact that Scotland was going to show one of his own memories but it made the Brit also slightly wary. What was he going to see in this memory? WHO was he going to see?_

_Finally though, England hesitantly reached out and took Scotland's hand, looking up at his brother in a mixture of curiosity and nervousness. Scotland smiled warmly and he closed his eyes, the darkness around both nations starting to disperse and fade away. _

_In one blink from England's eyes, he saw the darkness give way to a windy and rugged landscape. England stared around him, noticing that there were hills surrounding him and Scotland everywhere. _

_However he heard something that attracted his attention. England turned around and saw that there was a group of people on a large boulder and an even greater gathering at the foot of it. The people at the bottom were looking upwards at the people who were on the boulder. At the top, it seemed like a dark long-haired woman was talking harshly at them, sounding very upset and frustrated. _

_It took England a few seconds to realize that it wasn't a human woman, it was Pictland! Behind her stood two other avatars who England immediately recognized: Éire in his mid-teens and Alba in his early teens. Beside them stood a tall and more adult-looking avatar who was unfamiliar to England, but when he spotted that the third avatar had one blind eye, he guessed that it had to be Dál Riata. They were all staring at Pictland uneasily, especially Dál Riata who kept shifting from foot to foot. A human stood beside the group of avatars, staring at the Pictish nation in utter confusion._

_As England redirected his attention to Pictland, he was struck by how… unhealthy she looked. She was a stark contrast to the memory England had of her, her cheeks were sunken and there were dark rings under her eyes. Her skin was pasty and her purple eyes were bloodshot. England noticed that some blood was trickling out from the corner of her mouth but she seemed to ignore that. Her clothes were stained and ripped, her cloak tattered. _

"_W-what happened to her?" England stuttered, looking at Pictland in alarm. How was she still standing in such a condition?_

_Scotland smiled grimly as he looked at the female Pict. "Pictland? She stopped loving her people. She started hating them."_

"_But how? Why?" England questioned, turning to stare at Scotland in confusion. _

"_You know, this day was the day I was officially founded. The day I bound fully to my people. You'd think that it would have been a happier day but that wasn't the case," Scotland sighed sadly, "The humans at the bottom of the boulder are Pictish and Dalriadan nobles. The human at the top is Cinaed mac Ailpín, king of Dál Riata and now becoming king of the Picts as well. Incidentally, that made him my first king." Scotland turned to look at England seriously as he explained, "Gradually over several generations, Picts started giving up their language, their religion, their culture and they started accepting the Gaelic tradition, becoming Gaelicised as modern historians call it. But Pictland refused to follow her people. She resented them for abandoning their ancestors' identity and she tried all her best to resist the process of Gaelicisation in the hopes that some of the Picts would return to their roots. They never did."_

"_But why did she do that?" England looked at the Scot in confusion, it was one thing to stop loving your people because of their past but to stop loving them because they're moving away from their past? England would be absolutely fine in following these people, and yet, Pictland wasn't._

"_Pictland was too proud and she took pride in being Pictish. She regarded her people as weak, accepting a tradition that was not their own. She hated them because she believed that they were abandoning her," Scotland shook his head and chuckled bitterly, "But Pictland had the story completely wrong. Her people were not abandoning her, she was abandoning them. She was betraying them. An avatar's duty is to loyally follow their people and adapt when their people started changing. But Pictland refused to adapt. And here she's trying to see who still remembers the Pictish language, a last ditch-effort to save the Pictish identity. But the Pictish identity died exactly today, the day where the Dalriadans and Picts finally merged together to become Scots." _

_Pictland was still talking desperately, almost spitting the words of a language that had ceased to exist among her own people. England could see that she was in pain, looking from one Pictish noble to the other, hoping for one spark of recognition. She finished her urgent speech with a broken voice, barely managing to shout out the final words. _

_But the Pictish nobles didn't react. None of them showed any kind of sign that they had understood her. They were looking up at her with confusion and concern, many of them understanding that the female avatar was very weak. But none of them understood what she wanted from them. _

_The Pictish avatar stared at the humans in disbelief, her face twisting with pain and anguish as the realisation hit her that she was truly alone, that her people were no longer Pictish. She opened her mouth to say something but blood came dribbling out of her mouth. Pictland coughed and choked, leaning forward to spit the blood out. The humans looked between each other, worry evident in their eyes. Whoever this female was, she was very sick. _

_However, Pictland was not sick. She was dying. She knew that now and she looked at the humans with new eyes, with hatred and betrayal clear within them. Her expression darkened, looking absolutely murderous. _

_Before England could see what she would do, he had his eyes covered by Scotland's hands. The Brit jumped and tried shaking the hands off but he was shushed by Scotland, "You don't need to see this. You have enough traumatic memories of your own as it is, no need to add to the weight."_

_England was about to question what was going to happen but then he heard it. He heard Pictland scream out in frustration and rage and there was a collective gasp from the humans. Someone cried out in pain and chaos broke out as the humans panicked and ran. Something clattered on the rock and someone shouted in anger and grief. _

_When Scotland removed his hands, England looked around to see what had happened. The humans at the bottom of the boulder had scattered, backing away fearfully. Looking at the top of the boulder, the first thing England noticed was that Pictland was gone. From the corner of his eye, the Brit thought he saw a fleeing shadow. That was maybe Pictland._

_Turning his attention back to the boulder, England realized what had happened. Éire and Alba were both struggling to support Dál Riata, while the king looked at the avatars in alarm. Judging by the amount of blood on the boulder and the bloodied dagger that had been left behind, England came to the conclusion that Pictland had turned on Dál Riata and had viciously stabbed him in the chest and abdomen multiple times. _

_Éire and Alba eased Dál Riata gently to the ground, the kingdom convulsing several times and coughing up blood. England could see that Éire was whispering frantically to the kingdom, though the Brit couldn't make the words out. But it appeared that Éire was attempting to comfort the Dalriadan avatar, though he was doing a poor job of that. The Irish nation himself looked very upset and distressed, literally forcing himself to look slightly calmer to put Dál Riata more at ease. Alba looked more numbed than anything else, staring at the wounds of the other avatar in mute horror. _

_The Brit found himself drawn to them, wanting to know what they were saying, to even know what was going through their minds. England started walking towards the boulder, distantly aware of the current Scotland behind him calling out, "Hey, stop England!"_

_But England continued walking towards the boulder, finding small stepping stones which would allow him to reach the top of the boulder. As he climbed the stepping stones, he heard Scotland catch up with him. Scotland scolded, "Hey, I told you to stop. I didn't tell you could go further than this."_

"_I want to know what they're talking about." England replied simply, reaching the top of the boulder and approaching the three avatars. _

"_It's going to be alright Dál Riata, hold on. It'll be alright." Éire was saying quietly, attempting once again to calm the wounded kingdom. Dál Riata coughed violently and was breathing harshly through his nose, trying to find a way to deal with the pain. Éire studied the wounds closely and fell silent. After a few tense seconds, Éire looked up in the direction Pictland had presumably fled in and England resisted the urge to back away from the Irish nation._

_Rage, fury, grief and vengeance had settled in Éire's eyes. Éire's current expression was possibly more frightening than what Pictland's had been. The Irish nation looked uncontrollable right now, as if he was going to go in a rampage. Without looking at Alba, he ordered coldly, "Alba, stay here with Dál Riata and don't go anywhere else. I'll go and deal with Pictland."_

_Alba seemed to snap out of his shock and he looked up as Éire stood up to glare in the distance. The younger avatar spoke out in confusion, "But what about… what should I…?"_

"_Just… stay with him. Please." Éire turned his head to look at Alba, sadness evident in his eyes. He stared at Dál Riata shortly and he leaned in to kiss the kingdom gently on the forehead. He then pulled back and leapt off of the boulder, landing on his feet and took off running. He swiftly disappeared among the hills, in hot pursuit of the Pictish nation. _

_Scotland laid a hand on England's shoulder and sighed, "Well, this is as far as I wanted to take you. We should head back now." _

_England disagreed sharply, "Already? Can we not stay in this memory a while longer? It's clearly not at the end."_

"_But you've seen what I wanted to show you. You don't need to go further," Scotland shook his head, going on one knee to look at England closely. "You've seen here the consequences of what happens when an avatar stops loving their people. You can go easily from not loving to plain hating your people. And when you reach that point, your body starts shutting down. You start to die." _

_The Brit nodded, though a bit on the impatient side. "I know, I understand now. But I would really like to know what happened after this."_

_Scotland grimaced a bit as he answered, "Honestly England, it really isn't pretty."_

"_When is history ever pretty?"_

"_Point taken," Scotland chuckled ruefully before he added, "But I'm still not sure if I should really let you see how the memory continues. It's not the best memory for me, but it definitely is one of Ireland's worst. Might even make the top ten list if Ireland kept such a list." _

"_That bad?" England questioned incredulously. _

_The Scot nodded and then he crossed his arms over his chest. He reflected, "Nay, I think it's best if we leave now. Ireland would be absolutely ticked off if he found out that I allowed you to see a part of this memory anyway."_

"_Why allow me in the memory in the first place?" England demanded in mild annoyance._

_Scotland shrugged helplessly, "It was the best example I could think of where you see how important it is to love your people unconditionally. And I think a memory speaks more than words. But I think I've gotten the point across and you don't need to see more of this." Scotland closed his eyes and frowned in concentration. After a few seconds of nothing happening, he opened his eyes and looked around in confusion. _

"_We're still here." England informed nonchalantly, nodding his head over to Alba who was attempting to stop the bleeding wounds of Dál Riata. Scotland scowled darkly and closed his eyes, knitting his thick eyebrows together in concentration. _

_When nothing happened again, Scotland opened his eyes and sighed in frustration, "I can't believe I messed up in such a simple spell as this. Honestly, am I really that bad with magic?"_

"_So I guess we'll have to stay here until the end of the memory?" England said calmly, trying his best not to sound amused. Of course England had seen enough memories to know that you actually had no control over them, you couldn't just leave whenever you wanted. You had to stay till the end of the segment. _

"_Yeah, you can wipe that smug expression off your face. I know I messed up." Scotland raised an eyebrow, trying to look a bit miffed at the Brit. He then shook his head, "Alright, so I guess we don't really have a choice but to continue on until the memory ends. But promise me, whatever you see in this memory, you will NEVER talk about it outside, alright? Ireland would absolutely kill me if he ever found out."_

_England had been about to inform the Scot about the "rules" of memories but he was intrigued by Scotland's last sentence. Was the memory so bad? England cocked his head to one side as he questioned, "Would Ireland really do that?"_

_Scotland coughed awkwardly as he corrected, "Okay, maybe not outright killing me… but I would have to run for it. And stay hidden for a few weeks." _

_Suddenly a voice behind them cried out in alarm, "Dál Riata, stop trying to move! You have to give your body a chance to heal!" _

_England and Scotland both turned around to see what was going on. Alba was desperately trying to push the wounded Dalriadan back on the ground. The taller avatar was struggling to sit back up, his expression a mixture of pain and… oddly enough, determination. It looked like Dál Riata had an irresistible urge to do something. What exactly, England wasn't sure of. England slowly allowed himself to be pulled into Alba's stream of thoughts, feeling Scotland follow him shortly._

_Eventually, Dál Riata allowed himself to be pushed on the ground again. But he stared at Alba with a bitter eye and he smiled grimly, "But what's the point Alba? I'm not healing. My body can't heal anymore." Dál Riata felt one of the multiple stab wounds on his chest and he pulled his hand back, staring at the amount of blood. He let out a weak chuckle, "It's just like Pictland said, I'm a pathetic avatar."_

"_Don't believe anything that bitch says!" Alba hissed venomously, his heart burning with anger at the thought of the female Pict. How dare she attack Dál Riata without even being provoked? What had he done to her? _

"_But her words are the truth. I'm dying." Dál Riata mumbled wearily, coughing shallowly. Alba faintly heard a sickening gurgle coming from within the Dalriadan's chest. He didn't want to guess where the sound was coming from, or how it was being even made._

_Instead he shook his head fiercely and he denied, "You're not going to die from simple stab wounds Dál Riata!"_

"_But I am," Dál Riata countered, staring at Alba with a pained eye. "Ireland knows I'm dying. From the first moment he saw my wounds, I could see it in his eyes. He knew I stood no chance." Dál Riata tried sitting up again, whispering desperately, "I need to go… back. I have to go."_

"_You're not going anywhere." Alba growled, pushing the kingdom back on his back. He tried reasoning, "Wha-what if I went to look for a healer? They might be able to help with the wounds."_

"_By the time you manage to find one, I'd surely be already dead. Accept it Alba, I'm dying and there's nothing you can do except accept my death." _

"_No." Alba whispered tearfully, balling his hands into fists in helpless frustration. He wiped the tears away furiously and he snarled lowly, "You can't die today. You're just a few centuries old. This isn't your time."_

"_If it wasn't my time, my body would be healing these wounds. The fact that they aren't healing means that I am supposed to die now." Dál Riata gave Alba a pained smile, struggling to sit up again, but this time to hug the younger avatar. "It was nice knowing you Alba. Seeing you grow from a scruffy and tiny avatar… I have no doubt you'll continue growing and you'll become a tall and proud avatar. Ta-take good care of my people, you hear me?"_

"_But aren't they Ireland's…" Alba mumbled uncertainly, trying his best to blink back his bitter tears. He wouldn't break down and weep._

"_They are your people now. This has been the land's plan for a long while. Represent these people proudly and protect them with all your being. Protect them from the power-hungry," Dál Riata pulled back and briefly glanced at his current king, his dark green eyes hardening. Alba looked behind him at Dál Riata's king, who seemed to be talking nervously to a couple of other humans. Didn't he care that the representation of this land was dying at all?_

"_Do you accept my people as yours when I die?" Dál Riata asked quietly, making Alba turn his head to look at the kingdom again._

_Alba bit his lip, not certain what he should say or feel. Here he was, on the brink of binding to his new people, but he had never thought that he would be binding to his people at the cost of losing a friend who had looked out for him as long as he could remember. Alba cared a lot about Dál Riata and it hurt him to accept that the kingdom was dying. And now Dál Riata was asking him to accept his people as his own, as if it was already decided that the Dalriadan avatar would die. _

_But it was already decided, wasn't it? Dál Riata was dying and Alba wouldn't be able to save him in time. _

_Finally, Alba replied with a shaking voice, "Yes, when you leave, I'll accept your people as mine and represent them with pride." Despite his best attempts, a tear still succeeded in escaping out of the corner of his eye._

_Dál Riata broke out into a wide smile and he hugged Alba again, whispering softly, "Thank you." He then started coughing again and he fell back on the ground, curling on his side as his body convulsed violently. He wrapped his arms around his sides, gurgling sounds coming from deep within his chest. He looked so much in pain and yet Alba couldn't do anything to lessen the pain and the younger avatar looked on helplessly. To give some kind of comfort, Alba grabbed Dál Riata's hand and allowed the dying avatar to tighten his grip on his hand. _

_Alba stared into Dál Riata's good eye and saw that the avatar was staring back at him almost fearfully, his death imminent. Dál Riata coughed and choked a few times, his body tensing up for a few seconds before every single muscle relaxed, the last breath escaping Dál Riata's lips. His good eye remained focussed on Alba before it glazed over and the last spark of life disappeared._

_The younger avatar watched numbly at the lifeless body of his friend, feeling too hollow to bring forth any words. His eyes only filled to the brim with tears and though Alba tried his best, several tears managed to escape and trickle down his cheeks. He suppressed a broken sob and wiped the tears away. _

_Now was not the time to mourn. Alba took a few calming breaths to focus on what was important right now. Pictland had killed Dál Riata. Ireland had gone after Pictland. Alba should do the same. Maybe he could somehow squeeze an apology out of the vicious Pict, Dál Riata had not deserved to die like this. He may have weakened greatly due to the Viking raids, but he wasn't meant to die today._

_As Alba stood up, he was approached by Dál Riata's king. The king was staring at Alba suspiciously, demanding, "Did the representation of Dál Riata just die? Why didn't you do anything?" _

_The red-haired avatar bristled angrily but managed to reply with an even tone, "I couldn't do anything. He wasn't healing and he was too badly wounded."_

_The king frowned in confusion, "But how can the representation of this kingdom die when the kingdom still exists? I am the king of Dál Riata and the people are still Dalriadans. How can our representation die when we still exist?"_

"_I don't… I don't know." Alba answered uncertainly, looking down at Dál Riata's body. He couldn't tell with absolute certainty what should happen now. Though Alba did accept Dál Riata's request to take care of his people and represent them… did that mean Alba was meant to be Dál Riata's successor? That the uncaring king in front of him was his own? Alba continued, "I should go after my brother. He'll know what to do." _

_Just as Alba turned and was about to go in the direction where Éire had last disappeared, the king grabbed Alba's shoulder and exclaimed, "But what about the ceremony? Shouldn't it be completed? The nobles should have calmed down enough to be able to act as witnesses to it."_

_Alba looked behind at the king in annoyance and he shrugged the hand of the human off. He replied coldly, "You can go on with the ceremony if that's what you want. You can go and assume the kingship over the Picts. You don't need the presence of an avatar to watch, it's just a human ceremony anyway."_

"_But if there isn't a representation of my kingdom present, then it will bring bad luck to the kingdom!" The king argued, looking confused by Alba's hostile behaviour._

_The avatar's eyes narrowed dangerously and it took all of Alba's control not to lash out at the clueless human. Instead he managed to say lowly, "I just lost a very dear friend of mine who I have literally known from the beginning of my existence. Now if dying wasn't bad luck for Dál Riata, then I don't know what else is."_

_Then he turned away from the stunned king and jumped down the boulder quickly, running in the general direction he knew Éire had gone. However, as soon as he was far enough that he couldn't see the boulder and the humans he had left behind, Alba felt at loss where he should go. Had Éire and Pictland run a short distance? Had they nation-hopped? How was Alba supposed to follow them?_

_He closed his eyes and focussed on his senses, trying to pick up on the signals of Éire and Pictland. Hopefully he would be able to sense where they were. He was surprised to find that his senses seemed to have magnified, as if he was able to scan a larger radius of these lands. But it wasn't completely perfect because although he did manage to pick up on the two other avatars' signals, it came to him choppy and fragmented. But he got enough to know where their location was._

_But before Alba could nation-hop to where they were, he felt the earth shift beneath his feet and something in his body jerked suddenly. Alba gasped and fell to the ground, his mind reeling and his guts twisting. The young avatar took in a shaky breath, trying to calm himself down. His body was feeling very strange, as if it was struggling to adapt to a change that Alba was not yet aware of. All his nerves were tingling uncomfortably and his vision got blurry a few times, causing Alba to blink and close his eyes tightly._

_He didn't know what was happening to him or why he was even feeling so strange, but it gave him more of a reason to find Éire and find out what was wrong with him. Alba waited a few minutes till he felt somewhat normal again and then he struggled to his feet, feeling slightly dizzy._

_The young avatar shook his head to clear his dizziness and he concentrated on nation-hopping to the place he knew Éire and Pictland had gone to. He took a few steps forward and the landscape briefly disappeared in front of him, the new landscape seeming to morph out of the darkness and quickly taking shape in front of Alba. _

_Alba landed on the ground and looked around curiously. He seemed to have nation-hopped to an empty and windy place filled with hills and shrubs. The area seemed so wild and desolate that Alba doubted humans had ever tried to inhabit this place. He shivered slightly when the harsh winds howled past him. _

_Before Alba stood a very large and gloomy cave. Nestled between two grassy hills, the cave seemed to be the only thing that stood out in the landscape, being surrounded by nothing but hills. Alba briefly scanned the area to see where Éire and Pictland were but he was surprised to find that he could only feel Éire's signals. There was absolutely no trace of Pictland's signals. That was strange enough._

_Taking a deep breath, Alba approached the cave and looked inside it, surprised to see nothing but complete darkness. How deep was that cave? All he knew was that Éire was inside the cave and seemed to be pretty far inside. Had he chased Pictland into the cave? _

_Alba took a few hesitant steps inside, allowing his eyes some time to get used to the obscurity of the cave. He wished he had a torch at hand but he'd have to settle with his own eyesight. It was at least better than the eyesight of the humans. His pupils dilated to allow the little light that was present in but he discovered that he might have to rely on following the walls of the cave as well. _

_Carefully and warily, Alba stretched out his hand and touched both walls of the cave. For now it seemed like the passage was narrow but judging by the echoes of his footsteps, Alba wasn't surprised to feel the passage widen out and become more cavernous. Alba was just about to continue through the cave following one wall when his fingers brushed against something unexpected on the walls._

_The young avatar stopped and tried to see what he had felt with both of his hands against the wall. It seemed like the wall was covered in… carvings. Alba explored the intricate carvings with his hands, not having enough light to see what picture the carvings were making._

_Who would carve pictures into the walls of this cave when there was no light at all? Alba wondered shortly before he came to the conclusion that it could be only Pictland. Despite how good his or Éire's eyesight were, Pictland far surpassed them. She had unusually excellent eyes, being able to see things perfectly well in the night. But what was her purpose of carving in this cave? What significance did this cave have for the Pictish avatar?_

_Deciding that these questions could wait later, Alba continued his way blindly deeper into the cave. All his senses were on full alert, ready to zero in on the smallest sign of the two other avatars he was looking for. He didn't feel completely comfortable being in the darkness of a cave, he felt a lot better being out in the open, under the starry skies. Alba had to take one careful step at the time, making sure he wouldn't trip or fall into a hole._

_He noticed that the ground was gradually declining, indicating that Alba was going deeper underneath the ground. He groped his way through the cave, making always sure to keep an equal footing. He suddenly slipped on something and barely stopped himself from falling to the ground._

_Alba looked down to see what he had slipped on but it was too dark to make it out. He crouched down and felt for it, jerking his hand back when he felt something wet, a liquid. At a cautious distance, he smelled his hand that had touched the wet substance and he was hit by the smell of blood._

_He dearly hoped that it wasn't Éire's, or it would mean Pictland had managed to injure another avatar that Alba really cared about. Luckily Éire was a lot stronger than Dál Riata and a simple stab wound would not be fatal for the Irish avatar._

_Wiping the blood on the ground, Alba continued his slow descent in the cave. Soon enough though, he felt the ground level out and gradually start rising again. He then saw to his left some light in the distance, probably a hole that was allowing a shaft of light to enter the cave. Alba then caught a glimpse of ginger hair. Éire! _

_The young avatar hurried his steps and went towards where light was streaming in from the outside. The passage towards that end of the cave narrowed and Alba found that he was going up a small slope. He came closer and he allowed the light to make things more visible._

_Éire was sitting on his knees just a few steps away from Alba but he showed no signs of having heard the younger avatar approach. He had his back turned to Alba and his head was slightly bent. Nothing seemed to be amiss. _

_But something here felt wrong. Terribly wrong. The atmosphere felt suffocating and Alba could swear that the walls were holding echoes of something Alba truly didn't want to hear. When he looked closely at Éire, he noticed that small tremors were running through his brother's body. _

"_Éire?" Alba asked quietly, licking his lips nervously. He took a step closer to his brother and his foot splashed into something. Alba looked down and could only stare in horror at the pool of blood. Following the trail, he saw that Éire was completely surrounded by blood._

"_Stay away…" Éire mumbled tonelessly, bending more over himself._

"_Éire, are you alright?" Alba exclaimed worriedly, walking over to Éire despite his brother's warning._

"_STAY AWAY FROM ME ALBA!" Éire suddenly screamed, causing Alba to reel back from the sheer violence in his voice. Alba backed away quickly, he had never heard Éire being this upset before. _

_But once Alba had recovered from his shock, fierce determination set in. No matter what Éire said, Alba could clearly see something was wrong and it wasn't something Éire could simply laugh off as he usually would do in other situations. And Alba was going to find out and comfort his brother to the best of his abilities!_

_Setting his uneasiness aside, Alba circled around Éire, making sure not to step into the pool of blood. He then noticed that Pictland was lying on her side just in front of Éire. But wait, what was Éire cradling in his arms…?_

_Alba lurched back and clapped a hand over his mouth to hold back the bile that had risen inside of him. He then fell on his knees and stared at what Éire was holding in his arms with pure horror. Alba whispered hoarsely, "You… you cut off her head?"_

_Éire didn't reply but he pulled Pictland's head closer to him. His chest and cloak was completely drenched in blood and Pictland's hair was matted with the red liquid as well. Alba didn't have the courage to look at the female avatar's face, fearing that he would be otherwise sick. _

_No matter how many times Alba had seen this kind of tradition, which is a lot considering that the Celts placed a lot of value in the head, the younger nation never got used to this act of violence. Stabbing, impaling, burning, drowning, hanging, strangling and burying alive was one thing, but cutting a head off? Alba knew that Éire could become violent when he felt threatened but he had never shown this kind of violence, not even the unfortunate unbound avatars who weren't intelligent enough to avoid Éire were dealt with in this manner. As far as Alba knew, Éire had never really enjoyed the concept of head-hunting, though he did respect its importance in his society. _

"_S-she told me to do it." Éire explained in a shaky voice, refusing to look at Alba directly. He tangled a trembling hand into Pictland's raven black hair, twisting it around. He continued in a wobbly tone, "I didn't want to do it, I wouldn't have done, but she was yelling at me. Telling me I wasn't man enough to put her out of her misery, telling me that she wanted this… I wouldn't have done it, I wasn't thinking straight, how could I have done it…"_

"_But how…?" Alba started to question but he was swiftly cut off by the babblings of Éire._

"_I was just so angry! I knew she had killed Dál Riata and I know she did it to get to me, her way of getting back at me. I was furious and I wasn't thinking when she told me to finish her… I should have never done that…" Éire's shoulders were trembling now as the Irish avatar tried his utmost to suppress his sobs. _

_Alba managed to tear his gaze from Pictland's body and he tried to see Éire's face. His brother's face was ghostly pale with some blood splattered on his cheeks. The Irish avatar looked completely shattered by what he had done. _

_Éire took in a shaky breath and he continued, "Pictland… tricked me. She was dying but she wanted to die a warrior's death. She knew I would have never accepted her request, no matter how many times she demanded it. But Pictland knew how I can't think straight when I'm angry, how I lose complete control of myself. And she used this to her advantage…"_

_The younger brother didn't know whether he should still be horrified that Éire had decapitated Pictland or if he should comfort his upset brother. Pictland had ensured that Éire would be as emotionally destroyed as she was going to be physically destroyed. It was her twisted way to avenge the death of the Pictish identity._

"_Please don't think of me as a monster…" Éire pleaded quietly, looking at Alba with wide eyes. "I know I deserve to be seen as a monster, I did just kill a sister of mine and I shouldn't have done that. I killed someone I've known since the beginning… I am nothing but a monster but please don't see me as one… Albion's gone… Pictland's gone… I'm the only one left." In his desperation, Éire had started to yank at his own hair, pulling several strands out. _

_Alba frowned and he grabbed Éire's hand, stopping him from pulling more of his hair out. He then wrapped his arms around Éire's neck and hugged him, ignoring the stench of blood and death on his brother. He muttered fiercely, "You're not alone Éire, you have me and you have Ellan Vannin. And you are definitely not a monster!" _

"_Then what am I?" Éire asked miserably. _

"_I… I don't know…" Alba answered hesitantly, at loss at what he could say. Nevertheless he added, "But whatever you do, I'll always see you as my brother." He then got an idea and he continued, "Anyway, if you really were a monster, would you regret what you had done? Did you enjoy doing this? Would you do it again?"_

_Éire looked surprised by the question and he only thought for a short while before replying, "No, I wouldn't do it again… if I could go back in time and stop myself from doing it, I would. Pictland was already dying, all I did was speed things up. Still, the fact that she managed to manipulate me into doing what she wanted me to do, I'm still a monster for doing it."_

_Alba frowned as he pulled back and he hit Éire in the shoulder lightly, growling, "Éire, listen to yourself. Pictland was already dying. Whether you cut her head off or not, it doesn't make a difference."_

"_It does make a difference," Éire countered, running his bloody hand through Pictland's hair. "There is a difference between dying a calm and natural death and being killed by a weapon. And I shouldn't have been this predictable for Pictland to control me. I let myself be guided by my rage, by my gal."_

"_But you're not the only one, Ioruaidh loses himself to his berserk often enough." Alba argued insistently._

"_He's starting to control it more, even that Viking is better at keeping his emotions in check than I am," Éire replied, chuckling grimly. _

"_What about our cousin Galatia? She was constantly drunk for battle and blood, she was never calm unless her people carried out multiple raids on other people. Her people's identity and tradition was suppressed to weaken her…"_

"_It ultimately led to her death of course." Éire sighed, looking down at his sister's head sadly. _

"_See, you are NOT a monster," Alba said firmly, "We all have made mistakes and we've all done things we regret. But we're not monsters because of that. A monster is someone who doesn't care, someone who enjoys causing pain and someone who doesn't regret their actions. You're none of that."_

"_Perhaps," Éire exhaled deeply, brushing some dark strands of hair out of Pictland's face. He then smiled thinly, "But no matter what I do, I'll never get this blood washed off my hands."_

_Alba frowned, "Don't be silly, of course you can wash it off!"_

"_Physically, yes, but I'm not so sure about the rest," Éire laughed bitterly and stood up, Pictland's head still in his arms. He questioned slowly, "Where's east?"_

"_Uh, there." Alba answered automatically, pointing to Éire's right. The Irish avatar nodded and approached Alba, stretching Pictland's head out towards the younger avatar._

"_Can you hold her… please?" Éire asked, sounding determined._

_Repressing a shudder, Alba took Pictland's still warm head and kept it at body's length. He stared at Pictland fearfully, seeing her once fierce eyes staring at him lifelessly. There was a hint of a smug grin on her lips. Alba tore his gaze away, not wanting to burn this image of Pictland's face in his mind. He preferred keeping the image of the living Pictland instead. _

_He turned his attention back to Éire and was confused when he saw that his brother was turning Pictland's headless body around, shifting her limbs so that the body adopted a foetal position. Alba couldn't help but ask, "What are you doing Éire?"_

_Éire answered resolutely, "I killed her so the best I can do before her body fades away is to give her a Celtic burial. It's the best that I can do."_

_Alba cocked his head to one side curiously and then he recognized the traits, "Ah yes, the position of birth and facing east…" _

"_Facing death." Éire nodded solemnly, turning back to Alba to take the head back. He then walked over to the headless body and placed the head at the severed neck of the Pictish avatar. He crouched on one knee and stared at Pictland silently, reaching out to close her eyelids with his fingers. He then sighed, "Pictland, I'm sure you don't regret anything about this but I do. I wish I hadn't been this stupid and allowed my emotions to get the better of me. But you knew me inside out and you took advantage of it because you knew I would have never done this willingly. I can imagine that you're quite gleeful now since I will have a few nightmares thanks to you. But it was nice knowing you and you were… a… mostly good sister. Alba will take good care of your people, even if you have forsaken them." Éire undid his brooch and took his cloak off, laying it on Pictland's body. _

_As Éire stood up again, Alba approached him as he voiced his confusion, "Wait, her people? Does that mean that Pictland's and Dál Riata's lands belong to me?"_

"_What are the lands telling you?" Éire questioned simply, turning to look at Alba. _

_Alba briefly scanned the lands and he realised that they felt a lot more familiar to him, as if he was fully interconnected with the lands. For a long time, Alba had always felt some kind of attachment to the hills and windy landscape, but it had never felt so strong, so right. These were… his lands. He was the representation of them and all the people who lived here. Was that the cause of his dizziness before he nation-hopped after Éire and Pictland? The shifting of the link to the land from one avatar to another, causing the selection of a new representation for the people? _

_Smiling in response at Alba's dawning understanding that he had become a fully bounded avatar, Éire's expression saddened slightly when he asked, "Did Dál Riata die peacefully?" _

_Alba bent his head and nodded, "As peacefully as possible. I almost snapped at… well, I suppose he's my king now."_

"_Yeah, that king doesn't deserve the title." Éire sniffed disdainfully but as he looked back at Pictland, he became mournful and thoughtful. He looked back at Alba and he requested quietly, "Alba, please never tell anyone else of what happened here. I don't want anyone to know about this."_

"_Don't worry, I won't." Alba promised brightly, nudging Éire with his elbow. He then asked, "But why did Pictland lead you here?"_

"_This cave is her place of birth," Éire replied, "We always wondered why her eyes were so much better than ours. This is the explanation. She was born in this complete darkness and she got used to it. When avatars are dying, they'll get the strong urge to return to their birthplace. Pictland was under that same influence. It's the desire to complete the cycle of their existence."_

"_Oh…," Alba looked slightly guilty, "Dál Riata tried several times to leave but I kept pushing him on the ground. He stopped trying after a few times and he died…"_

_Éire's eyes were sad but he still smiled weakly, saying, "Well, keep an eye then for a small unbound avatar who looks like a copy of Dál Riata. That's what happens when an avatar doesn't manage to reach their birthplace, they regenerate into a new avatar." Casting a last glance at Pictland, he slightly nudged Alba towards the entrance of the cave, claiming, "Now, you better head back to Dunadd Hill and see if that foolish king of yours has been crowned yet. Tell him you're the new representation of this new kingdom."_

"_But where are you going?" Alba argued, only resisting Éire slightly as his brother continued nudging him away from the light. _

"_I… need to be alone for a while. I'll be fine, don't worry." Éire answered, smiling at Alba though even with the decreasing visibility of the light, Alba could clearly see that it was a false smile._

"_Éire…"_

_But his brother shook his head as he continued encouraging Alba to move forward through the passage, "Honestly, nothing bad will happen Alba. I just need to take this all in and straighten my thoughts out. Albion died just a few centuries ago. Pictland died today. Losing the two sisters one grew up with… it is something big for me. But don't worry, I intend to stick around a lot longer, mark my words… I just need time to recover from this."_

* * *

_As the memory ended and faded away in the darkness, England found himself in front of Scotland again. He was quite honestly stunned by the memory, having never expected something like this to happen between Pictland, Ireland and Scotland. It was a situation England hoped to never be in._

"_So yeah…" Scotland coughed awkwardly, drawing England's attention to him, "Don't breath a single word of this memory to anyone else. You may have seen the memory but my promise technically still stands because I didn't tell you anything about it, you saw it with your own eyes."_

"_Ironically enough, I think this part of the memory is more helpful than the one you wanted to show me." England mused, looking at Scotland in mild surprise._

_Looking equally surprised, Scotland asked, "Really?"_

_England nodded, thinking back to what Scotland had said to Ireland to convince the Irish nation that he was not a monster. But England had to question himself if he could apply the same principles to himself. Did he care? Had he enjoyed inflicting pain on the others in the past? Well, England certainly did regret many of the actions his past self had done…_

_The small Brit asked curiously, "How does Ireland feel about Pictland today?"_

_Scotland seemed surprised by the question and it took him a few moments to consider it before answering, "He never mentions Pictland by name, I think he sometimes likes convincing himself that this memory never happened. He doesn't like being reminded of it. But he does seem to be thinking about her when he says that sometimes living with your mistakes is punishment enough."_

"_But does he hate himself for what he did?" _

_The Scot scratched his head, thinking hard. He shrugged helplessly, "I can't say for sure, I'm not Ireland, after all. But I guess he accepted that he made a dire mistake and if he could go back in time, he would stop himself from ever doing it. However, it's no use to think about all these "what ifs" scenarios since what has happened, has happened. I think he just lives with it."_

_England looked thoughtful about that, wondering if it was this easy for him to accept his own mistakes. It would be nice if it was that easy… then again, who said it wasn't? But England wasn't sure if he could forgive his past self so easily. Even if the other nations seemed to have forgiven him for his misdeeds…_

_**But you are just a pathetic little piece of shit. Why do you deserve forgiveness for what you have done? You're a lost cause! **__The dark voice cackled loudly, making England jump at the proximity of his ego's voice._

_Scotland looked around, frowning. He had heard the voice as well and he was confused by it. He had never heard anything like the dark voice inside his mind. England was looking around in panic, how in the world had his ego followed him till here? This wasn't his mind, this was Scotland's! The dark voice wasn't even supposed to be here!_

"_Who is this?" Scotland called out into the darkness._

_England replied nervously, "I think you may already know what it is, though it shouldn't be here."_

"_Wait, you mean…?" Scotland turned to look at England with a confused expression, but then it seemed to occur to him who England might be referring to. He questioned weakly, "You mean to say that this is… your dark voice?"_

_**I honestly don't understand why everyone wastes so much time with you. Everyone hates you after all, you are nothing but a monster! **__England's ego snickered, brushing past England, causing the Brit to jump._

_Scotland frowned angrily and he moved closer to the other nation, standing protectively over England. He growled defensively, "England is not a waste of time, leave him alone finally! I definitely don't hate him!"_

_The dark voice seemed to materialize in front of the nations, rising up to Scotland's height. It stared the Scot straight in the eyes with its own crazed green eyes, grinning widely. The dark voice then sneered, __**Hey England, do you know how much you hurt Scotland in the past?**_

_The elder brother glowered at the form and he set his hands on England's shoulders, pulling England closer to him. England looked up briefly at the Scot but then he looked back at his ego, too nervous to ask how badly he had hurt Scotland. _

_The grin on the ego's face became even wider still as the dark voice bent down and stared directly at England. __**Have you heard of what you did to Scotland at Culloden? **_

_England looked upwards at Scotland and saw that the Scot had frozen in place, his expression becoming stony. But he could feel from how hard Scotland was gripping his shoulders that Culloden was definitely not good news. _

_The dark voice looked positively gleeful and it opened its mouth to start telling England about Culloden. But before it could start talking, England felt his ears being covered by Scotland. England looked at Scotland again and saw that the Scot had closed his eyes and was frowning in concentration. _

_Although he could hear the muffled voice of the dark voice, England tried his best not to listen and hear what his ego was talking about. He closed his eyes too and he tried to ignore the voice of his ego. _

_But he was very surprised to find that after a few moments, the dark voice fell completely silent. He opened his eyes and saw that the dark voice was still there, but something had changed. The dark voice was still in the darkness. England and Scotland weren't anymore, they were in some strange white light that seemed to be emanating from them._

_No, it was emanating from Scotland to be more exact. England patted the Scot on the hand to make him realize that he didn't need to have his ears covered anymore. It seemed like the white light was blocking out the voice of his ego._

_Scotland relaxed his hold and once he had opened his eyes, he looked around in mild confusion. He scratched his head and asked, "Now what is all this? Where did all that light come from? At least its keeping that bastard ego at bay."_

"_What were you doing before the white light came?" England asked curiously. _

"_I was just thinking of a good memory to drown out that horrible voice, I wasn't really doing anything else." Scotland replied, looking quite thoughtful. _

"_It seems to have created this white light which my ego can't seem to cross…" England mused, taking a few steps away from Scotland and hesitantly stretching his hand out of the white light. He quickly jerked his hand back when he felt the dark voice try to grab his hand and drag him out of the white light. Staring out in the darkness for a small while, England turned to face his brother and he questioned, "What did my ego mean with what I did to you at Culloden?"_

"_You'll find out in time, but I will not tell you about it today." Scotland answered firmly._

"_Why?" England was a bit surprised by the abruptness in Scotland's tone. Scotland had a pained look in his eyes, the memory seemed to be still sensitive to him._

_Scotland sighed, looking sad, "It's just… you already are very harsh on yourself and learning of this memory now will not improve your view. All that I can tell you is that it was at Culloden that the last war on British soil was fought and… well, it still is a very painful memory for me…." _

"_Oh," England said softly, feeling bad for having asked. He turned back to look out in the darkness._

"_Umm, England?" Scotland asked tentatively after a few moments, causing England to turn back towards his older brother again. Scotland looked at his feet awkwardly before he made eye contact with England again. He then said, "I know we all make mistakes, some of them worse than the others. The importance of when you make these mistakes is to apologize to the one who was hurt in the process and hope for forgiveness from them. You often assume that you won't be forgiven for yours, even when they've long been forgiven. However… you remembered the lake incident just a few days ago, right?"_

_England nodded slowly, wondering what Scotland was trying to say. Then the memory came rushing back to England, catching the Brit by surprise. He got flashes of the water and bubbles that had surrounded him and he remembered the condescending grin of Alba. With the image of Alba's face fresh in mind, England looked at Scotland closely. He wondered how could such a cheery and bright nation like Scotland be so harsh when he was younger. However, the previous memory had shown that Alba hadn't been inhumane, already then the familiar kindness that England could see in Scotland today had started to appear. Had Alba been so harsh to England because he had been numbed by more horrific events? _

_Scotland swallowed heavily as he continued, "Well, I know that what I did to you back then was horrible and unjustifiable and… I… I-I'm really sorry for what I did back then. It had never been my intention to drown you, it was really something that I did on the moment without thinking. And when you were in the water, at first I wanted to see how you would get out but when you sank… when I thought that you were going to drown, I fished you out." Noting that he was starting to babble, Scotland inhaled deeply and he crouched to England's level, looking at the Brit seriously, before saying, "I'm really sorry for my actions England, and I hope you can forgive me for what I did."_

_England stared at Scotland quietly, allowing the words to sink in. Scotland looked genuinely apologetic for what had happened back then and England truly wondered if it was worth holding a grudge for something that had happened so long ago…_

_The smaller nation sighed, "I do forgive you, but you are certainly the reason why I'm scared of deep waters now. And this event certainly did not improve our relations as brothers, did it?"_

_Scotland smiled sheepishly, "Nay, I think you've wanted to get back at me and my brothers after that incident. I think it was at this point that you stopped trying to be like us and went on to become stronger and then force us to be more like you." He then pulled England into an awkward hug and he said, "Still, I'm sorry for all the bad blood that existed between us."_

_Smiling at the awkwardness of his brother, England returned the hug and didn't feel the need to reply. Scotland's hug was worth more than a hundred words._

_Outside the white light, the dark voice was glaring viciously at the two nations as if paced back and forth in a feline-like manner, trying to find a crack in this new impenetrable defence._

* * *

**A/N**

Well, for now it seems like Scotland has discovered a way to keep the dark voice at bay, but will England be able to reproduce the same defence in his own mind? And how long will it hold before the dark voice figures out a way around it? I finish with an uneasy note amidst the brotherly love between England and Scotland. Hopefully it didn't sound too corny, those scenes where one has to apologize to the other have always been a bit awkward for me to write. Oh yeah, Culloden was the last battle fought between England and Scotland and it is the last battle fought on British soil. (date is 1745) That battle broke Scotland's fighting spirit and you do not want to mention Culloden to Scotland. If Culloden was gloomy before the battle took place there, it has become a lot gloomier since then. It's sort of a trigger memory, Scotland will snap easily at anyone who talks about Culloden in a carefree manner.

Anyway, I really hope the suicide discussion was to your satisfaction. It isn't entirely over yet but don't expect me to do several chapters analysing England's suicide. This discussion was already difficult enough to write. I had to juggle all those different nations around, if I missed someone, it isn't my fault! I wasn't trying to put everyone in, I was simply trying to keep it balanced. America doesn't say much because he isn't comfortable with the overall discussion. But you get this scene from his point of view, so that shouldn't be too bad. Anyway, I put in a lot of details: Why is there some conflict between Singapore and Switzerland and where did the link come from. Interesting fact, Singapore is called the Asian Switzerland because of their high living standards but despite all that, they also have a high suicide rate. It would be rather upsetting for Singapore to be faced by another nation who allows their people to assist in suicides. Yes, Switzerland really has these two institutions, Dignitas and Exit to whom I can't remember the name. Dignitas is the only group that accepts foreigners, the other only accepts Swiss citizens. They're actually quite professional groups, having the patients go through many tests to ensure that they are sound of mind and they really want to end their lives. And then they euthanize the patient. Those are quite unique groups in my opinion.

Pakistan doesn't really hate England, he's just a bit sore because England's Prime Minister sort of implied that Pakistan was encouraging the exportation of terrorist, which caused the relations between these two countries to become frosty. Kashmir is a region that India and Pakistan have fought fiercely over, Kashmir was first given to Pakistan but India managed to get a half of that region under her military control. I actually met a guard where I live (I live in a student village) who comes from Kashmir but since he's from the Pakistani side, he thinks that India has no right to have the other part of Kashmir. *shrugs* I try my best to understand what is going on between those nations but if I made a mistake, I apologise for that.

I hope you guys weren't too shocked by the memory that Scotland showed to England. It really encompasses that question of when you do something monstrous and when you are a monster. To explain one thing, gal is the Celtic version of berserk, basically, battle-fury. While Vikings went berserk, Celts went gal. One of Ireland's hero's gal was described in causing the hero to have one bulging eye, one sunken eye, frizzier hair and spazzy movements of the limbs. Of course the real gal was not that bad, but it did describe the Celtic warriors losing control of their emotions and rationality flew out the window. The Galatians (Celts in Asia Minor) might have been named after that famous battle-fury because the Greeks often used the Galatians as mercenaries in their wars. Ireland was possibly in his gal-mode when he lashed out and did what Pictland wanting him to do. We can say that Pictland used emotional manipulation to get to Ireland and just give him a major "f*ck you" before she died. Well, she did succeed in emotionally hurting Ireland. :\

Don't judge them too harshly though, this memory happened in a time where people were ultimately more violent and followed a different mentality. Celts cut the heads off not only of enemies but also friends that had fallen in battle. Some of the enemy heads would be nailed to the door or preserved in cedar oil to show off. Heads of friends were usually placed in rivers so that they reach the Otherworld more quickly. Druids would sacrifice humans and examine their entrails to predict the future. In the rebellion of the Britons led by Boudicca, we often see them in a better light because they fought against the nasty Romans and were ultimately executed for having rebelled. What we often forget is the cruelty they showed towards the Roman colonies. London, only 20 years old then, was burnt to the ground. Cantium's (Kent's) inhabitants were massacred and many of those who were still alive were impaled on sharpened poles and the womens' breasts were cut off and stuffed in their mouths. My point is, living among the Celts was not a peaceful affair. For those who wonder over how good modern Ireland is in keeping his emotions in check, well, living with the Celts helped majorly. When you see these kind of things, nothing else shocks you anymore.

A last point: I have integrated my theory of how nations die into this story as well. Nations are always described as sort of disappearing, and I thought up of seeing this in a way of how cats do it. When cats are dying, they leave and hide in a place to die peacefully. A similar things occurs with the nations, but they return to the place they were born. I believe that nations are directly born from the earth but they form a strong bond to the place where they were born. So when they are dying, they get a very strong urge to return to their birthplace. Rome disappeared like that, many Ancients disappeared like that. And if they don't manage to return to their birthplace? They regenerate and become an unbound avatar that looks like a carbon-copy of the previous avatar with the memories of the previous avatar buried deep in the sub-consciousness. One example of this? Germany and HRE. HRE was killed before he managed to reach his birthplace and when Prussia was passing by the battlefield, he saw HRE's body regenerate and Germany came out of this. That explains why Germany was seen having flashbacks of HRE's memory. Why would he need those memories? Well, if the day ever comes where Germany will die, Germany will get the urge to return to HRE's birthplace, not his own. Germany will sub-consciously want to complete the cycle. So, it doesn't really go against the "HRE having amnesia" theory, I just like to show that Germany has HRE's appearance and memories, but he's at the same time not HRE.

That'll be all from me. Hope you enjoyed the chapter and I hope to have the next one up soon! Merry Christmas to you all and a Happy New Year!


	41. Chapter 40

*shuffles uneasily* Umm... I'm back? ^^; I'm really sorry guys, I've gone over my one month limit once again. You know what, I really should stop making long chapters. Maybe if my chapters were shorter, I would be less likely to get a writer's block right in the middle of it and I would be uploading chapters more often. This chapter is freaking 57 PAGES LONG! Be prepared to take a short break in the middle. No matter where I looked, I couldn't find a good place to snap the chapter in half. But seeing how neglectful I've been to you guys over the past few months, I suppose you could see this chapter as two-chapter-in-one to make up for it? University hasn't been too kind to me and I'm being really bad with procrastinating. I have 5 essays to write! Well, one to write and 4 to study and then write 2 of them in exam conditions... bleh. At least the one essay I have to write for Celtic is interesting, I have to write about the Celtic nations after the collapse of Rome and I have to to describe what has changed and what was kept after the Romans left Britain. Can you guys imagine that Britain rebelled fiercely against the Romans but when the Picts, the Irish and the Saxons began beating the Britons up, the Britons turned to the Romans and begged for help 3 times? On the third time, the Romans just kind of shrugged and said the Britons have to take care of themselves. Actually, what kind of shocked me is the theory that Pictland, Ireland and the Germanic states were cooperating together and raiding Britain in a highly organized manner. There is no proof of course that the Celts and Germans were directly interacting with each other but there is a suspicion since apparently they never had any clashes with each other during raids, meaning either highly opportunistic behaviour among the raiders or actual collaboration. Who knows? Either way, Ireland, Scotland and Pictland went pretty wild and maybe enjoyed kicking their Romanized siblings around a bit TOO much. Or in Wales' and Cornwall's case, semi-Romanized siblings.

Otherwise, I've been fine really. I've done more or less well in my exams, still haven't gotten the results from my Biology exam back yet. But I'm not failing, I'm sure of that. It's still strange for me to get used to an alphabetical grading system rather than a numerical sytem. I was used to having from 1 to 10 grading system but now I have the ABC system? Ah well, at least I can say that for one subject, I have an A, and for the other, I have a B. I still don't know about Bio. But I'm pretty comfortable where I am right now. The Celtic course is getting really interesting, I'm a bit sad at leaving the ancient Celts behind but I'm moving towards the medieval Celtic nations. It has led me to the discovery of TWO Celtic brothers that none of my existing Celtic characters decided to mention. Maybe because there's a possibility that they might have died. Ah well, at least I can add Britonia and Strathclyde to the expanding family. Britonia, like Brittany, fled Britain and went to live with Spain. Whether he's still alive or not is debatable, the Celtic language died somewhere in the Middle Ages but some of the Celtic culture continues to survive in modern-day Galicia. Strathclyde stands out for two reasons: He had his own Celtic language, Cumbric, like Wales has Welsh and Cornwall has Cornish. Secondly, he holds the record for one of the longest surviving British kingdom. Makes him a bit of an older brother for Wales and Cornwall but he's younger than Ireland. (equal age with Scotland?) I still have to look into what became of him, today we have the English county Cumbria who stands on what used to be Strathclyde. Cumbria has no trace of Celtic in him, which begs the question whether it's Strathclyde who adapted and lost his Celtic identity, or he died and regenerated into Cumbria or he was completely replaced by a Germanic Cumbria. Need to sort those kinks out...

Well, I should let you guys get on with the story! ^^ I hope you guys enjoy it and my writing block isn't too painfully obvious in the middle. I tried my best at least in making it interesting. Enjoy!

EDIT: I did a run through and made minor corrections on this chapter. But when I went to save these changes, the site logged me out and made me lose the changes. So there might be a few typos here and there... honestly, I don't have the energy to run through 57 pages again tonight. I'll come back to it tomorrow maybe, but for now, I'll let you guys enjoy this chapter. Hope you don't mind the minor typos. ^^;

* * *

Chapter 40

"Alright, I think it's time for a break. The discussion on suicide will continue after the lunch break but you've all handled it very well until now. Thank you for your attention and maturity." When Germany had finally declared that it was lunchtime, America and some of the other nations let out a sigh of relief and many stood up to leave the room. Not that the discussion on suicide hadn't been interesting, but it was a very heavy subject. And the second part of the suicide discussion had somehow wandered into the more legislative side, making the discussion doubly heavy and almost on the borderline of becoming slightly boring.

Not that America thought that suicide was boring. But talking about the legality of suicide from country to country just wasn't to America's taste. Suicide was suicide, period. It didn't really matter if some countries tolerated suicide more than others… it was slightly interesting though that in the old days people could get executed for attempting to commit suicide because it was considered a crime. Talk about a twisted manner of doing those people a favour by doing what they had already tried and failed to do.

The nations were unusually quiet today, only talking in soft voices. Some of the nations gathered in small groups to talk among friends while others seemed to choose solitude to allow a chance for their thoughts to settle.

America's main goal was, however, an entirely different one. With now some free time to spare, America really wanted to head back to England's hotel room and check on him. He wondered whether the Brit was still suffering from the sweating sickness or not.

He made his way out of the meeting room quietly, seemingly undetected by everyone. America saw some of Commonwealth nations gathered together just outside the meeting room, discussing something in hushed tones. Judging by the guilty expressions some of them wore, America didn't have to wonder too much what the subject of their conversation was about.

Ireland had gone off God knows where, his phone in his hand and a preoccupied expression etched on his face. Ever since he had replied the message Wales had sent him, the Irish nation had looked uncertain and worried at the same time. America would have liked to ask what was on Ireland's mind but the European nation had left so abruptly after lunchtime had been declared that the American supposed he could ask Ireland later.

Right now, America wanted to check on England's state.

* * *

Ireland knew that something was wrong when he got a message from Wales saying "_Call me ASAP_" just after Germany had declared a lunch-break. He left the meeting room quickly and went down the hall till he reached a couple of dark green armchairs. After looking around and confirming that no one was around, the Irish nation sat down in one of the armchairs and called Wales.

After a few rings, Wales picked up and swiftly said, "Hello Ireland."

Ireland replied, "Hey Bretain Beag, what happened? Your text didn't sound very comforting."

"Well, I don't know whether I should be worried, intrigued or disturbed by what I found," Wales said hesitantly, sighing quietly.

"What did you find?" Ireland asked in confusion, "First you message me about things that are missing and now you found something? How are they related?"

"The things that disappeared are things that England liked, even his roses are nowhere to be seen," Wales explained.

"Wait, the roses are missing too?" Ireland was getting increasingly worried. The disappearance of England's tea, embroidery and some of his books was strange and unusual, but even his beloved roses were gone? England loved those flowers fiercely and it was one of the few things no one ever dared mess with, not even France had the courage to face England's wrath if even one petal was torn off. So why were the roses gone?

"The… the roses aren't missing, technically. England's fays told me that he himself destroyed them shortly before his suicide," Wales elaborated carefully, his tone sounding very perturbed.

Ireland was too stunned to reply to that. England destroyed his own roses? His national flower? That should have alerted them to England's state of mind, the normal England would have never done that. Sadly no one had noticed the absence of the flowers until it was too late. Ireland bit his lower lip uncertainly before he questioned, "So, the other things that are missing… you think they were destroyed too?"

"There is a great possibility and Scotland thinks so too," Wales exhaled shakily before he continued, "But I called Scotland some time ago and while I was talking with him, I bumped into England's desk and caused several books and papers to fall. Normally I would have just put the books back on the desk but the titles caught my eyes. Did you ever hear of these two groups, Heaven's Gate and The Order of the Solar Temple?"

"No, never heard of these groups… should I know of them?" Ireland asked uneasily, no matter how much he racked his brain for answers, his mind had no clue who these two groups were.

But Wales ignored Ireland's question and instead hurriedly questioned, "Do you know of Numantia?"

The Irish nation blinked in surprise, finding that this name did ring a bell to him. Numantia, Numantia… ah yes, Numantia! Ireland nodded and confirmed, "Yes, I know about Numantia. He was a small Celtiberian town who strongly opposed Rome."

"What is Numantia… known for?" Wales asked, sounding fearful.

"The siege of Numantia of course," Ireland answered quickly, "Most of the Numantians preferred killing themselves rather than surrendering to the Romans… why do you ask?"

"IRELAND, think about it!" Wales exclaimed exasperatedly, "Think of what those Numantians did!"

"But…," Ireland was clearly confused now, what was his brother expecting from him? The Numantians had all committed suicide… well, mass suicide to be more correct… wait. England-suicide-Numantia-mass suicide. Mass suicide-suicide-England. Then it hit Ireland like a wall of bricks. "Wait, what the FECKING HELL was Sasana doing with books on mass suicides? Is that what all the books are about?"

"Unfortunately yes, I have several books here on the siege of Numantia, siege of Masada, siege of Yodfat, mass suicides of Heaven's gate and The Order of the Solar Temple, even a book or two on the mass suicides that occurred in Nazi Germany in 1945. There are other books as well, but they all deal with mass suicides."

"But why was Sasana reading those books?" Ireland questioned perplexed, unable to understand where England's sudden interest in mass suicides came from.

"Not just reading, he was studying them. In every book, I've found passages underlined, highlighted and even circled," Wales explained, a hint of disbelief in his tone.

Ireland asked warily, "Was Sasana… trying to induce mass suicides among his own people? Take them down with him?"

Wales snorted at the other end of the line, "Not likely, we're talking about England here. He loved his people, I doubt he even considered the thought. No," Wales paused shortly, sounding thoughtful. "I think he was taking inspiration from these events."

"Inspiration?" Ireland echoed, sounding lost. How was England being inspired by these mass suicides.

"Ireland…," Wales groaned impatiently, "What lies behind these mass suicides? Those that occurred in sieges?"

"An identity," Ireland answered, before he quickly corrected, "well, a representation of this identity to be more exact, an avatar."

"I don't think England was studying the mass suicides, he was specifically studying the effects mass suicide had on avatars." After a moment of hesitation, Wales questioned, "Ireland, what happened to Numantia?"

"You know how smaller avatars like cities and tribes get, they're always more connected to their people than the larger avatars. He… went insane with all his people killing themselves and he, also, killed himself," Ireland replied, his heart sinking in realization.

"How?"

Ireland thought hard and he almost dropped his phone in his shock as he came upon the answer. "Numantia swallowed poison."

Wales sighed heavily as he commented, "Seems like we've found one of the inspirations that led to England's suicide…"

"Indeed…," Ireland muttered weakly, running his free hand through his ginger hair. The horrible irony that England had been inspired by one of his Celtic cousins.

After a moment of mutual, uneasy silence, Wales questioned slowly, "Ireland, England shouldn't have known about what had happened to Numantia all these years ago, should he?"

"If you didn't know about Numantia, so shouldn't have Sasana. You were barely around when it happened and Sasana was born after Numantia's death," Ireland answered firmly, this he was convinced about. How had England discovered this story about Numantia?

"You didn't tell hi-" Wales began darkly but was swiftly cut off by the Irish nation.

"Breatain Beag, I never told Sasana about Numantia. I don't remember him ever asking me about him." Ireland huffed in annoyance, he had clearly heard that Wales had been on the verge of holding Ireland responsible for having given England the idea of poisoning himself. It wasn't Ireland's fault that he knew what had happened to Numantia!

"So from who else could England have heard this story?" Wales demanded, sounding confused and lost.

"Possibly from Spáinn, there are a few Spanish plays based on Numantia's story. They were really popular because they all encouraged Spáinn's people to feel pride in their identity and to hold on to it no matter what. It was even staged during Franco's dictatorship to celebrate their patriotic victory over the communists," Ireland replied, continuing with a sniff, "You'd be shocked by how different they present Numantia's story. Most like to show that ALL the Numantians killed themselves, except for a small boy called Bariato who hid in a tower. When the Romans tried coaxing him down and promised him honour and wealth, he refused and flung himself from the tower. The audience actually cheers when he does that."

"Ireland, bring your focus on England again," Wales commanded sharply, "We know now that England couldn't have known about Numantia's suicide except if he had asked either you or Spain about it. He was reading up on all those mass suicides to see what effect it had on the avatar representing the people. We need to understand where his interest in mass suicides came from, it didn't come out of nowhere. You'll have to ask around to see with which nations England would have talked with about the specific mass suicides. He wouldn't have gotten his answers from the books alone."

"So I'll have to ask Spáinn about what Sasana asked him about Numantia?" Ireland questioned warily, having the sneaking suspicion that this was exactly what Wales wanted.

"Precisely."

"Anyone else?" Ireland sighed, Wales had mentioned other books and the Irish nation knew very well that his brother would want him to check on the others as well. Wales did mention a book on the suicides in Nazi Germany… crap, did that mean Ireland had to ask Germany? These events weren't even a century old, surely they would be extremely sensitive to the German nation…

There was the sound of flipping pages on the other end as Wales looked through the various books he had in front of him. He answered, "There are quite a few books on the siege of Masada and Yodfat… those used to be Jewish fortresses."

"So I'll ask Iosrael about them, he knows Jewish history better than anyone else, after all," Ireland noted, memorizing the strange names Masada and Yodfat.

"The books on the suicides of Nazi Germany are heavily highlighted by England, so I think you should ask Germany as well," Wales added thoughtfully, flipping through another book.

"Uhh… Breatain Beag, those suicides happened back in 1945. It happened just under a century ago. Do you really want me to go and ask Germáin about such a sensitive subject?" Ireland asked in a disbelieving tone. Did Wales really want to put Ireland into such an awkward situation?

Wales fell silent for a moment and then he proposed, "Maybe not Germany then… but you can try to ask Prussia. England would have most likely spoken with him rather than Germany."

"Pruis is locked in Germáin's hotel room right now, but I can always try to talk to him later after the meeting is over." Ireland chuckled awkwardly, already wondering how he was going to talk to Prussia about the suicides that occurred in Nazi Germany… he was going to have a lot of fun talking with the nations today, wasn't he?

The Welsh nation made a sound at the back of his throat and Ireland heard a few more pages being flipped thorough. Eventually Wales said, "You know what, I think I'll send you the list of nations who I would like you to talk with and ask them the subject that regards them by phone. I have quite a few here and I doubt you'll be able to keep them all in mind."

"Hey, my memories aren't that bad." Ireland whined, feeling slightly annoyed that Wales had so little faith in Ireland's capacity of memorizing.

"Says the one who has major memory gaps of his childhood, some of these gaps being so bad that you can barely tell us anything before the 2nd century BC?" Wales questioned, sounding incredulous.

"Oi, that was the druids' doing, not simply me. It's not like I wanted to forget, but they kept insisting that it would be dangerous for one person to have so much knowledge and memory about the Celts." Ireland huffed defensively.

"Anyway," Wales continued in a firm tone, "I'll send the list to you now and I would really appreciate it if you could use your free time in the lunch break to ask around."

"Yes sir…" Ireland grumbled, it seemed like his lunch was going to be an extremely short one today.

"Don't sir me." Wales protested loudly, sounding indignant.

"Then stop ordering me around." Ireland shot back with a strained smile, the Irish nation never appreciated being given orders, regardless from who they came from. Exhaling heavily, he added, "Bretain Beag, it was clear to me from the beginning that I was going to go and see with who Sasana talked with. I also want to know where Sasana's interest in mass suicides came from and how much of an effect it had on him. I don't need to be ordered to do it."

"Oh…, err, well, I-I wasn't trying to order you around… not purposefully at least," Wales mumbled guiltily and then he claimed, "I was just making sure that you knew what you must do now."

"Sure, sure…," Ireland smirked as he rolled his eyes in amusement, Wales was doing a poor job of concealing the fact that he knew he had assumed wrong and felt bad about it. Wales had never been the type to say sorry easily, he was used to the fact that he was almost always right. But Ireland could also be right, sometimes. The Irish nation suppressed a chuckle as he continued, "Anyway Breatain Beag, I'll go now and ask around about those books and find out if Sasana spoke with them. Send me the list of the others when you can."

"Alright, please call me or send me a message if you find out something important," Wales requested, still sounding rather guilty.

"Will do," Ireland replied swiftly, hanging up on Wales. He only had to wait a couple of minutes before he received a message from his brother listing the nations and mass suicide events associated with them. Ireland scanned the list carefully, narrowing his eyes as he took in the names of the nations he would have to approach. So, not only would he have to talk to Spain, Israel and Prussia, but he would also have to talk with Indonesia, Lithuania, Sri Lanka, Japan, Greece, possibly America and EVEN Switzerland. "Christ am I going to have fun…," Ireland muttered hoarsely, sticking his phone back in his pocket as he stood up from the armchair.

Ireland quickly checked his watch to make out how much time he had to eat before he went to talk with the other nations. Sadly, it didn't seem like there was a lot of time…

Well, he might be able to grab a sandwich before getting down to business.

* * *

America walked up to England's hotel room and entered without knocking, asking loudly, "Hey England, you feeling better now?"

He heard someone jump at his sudden entry but it turned out to be Scotland. The Scot turned around and glared resentfully at the American. Scotland growled icily, "Knock on the door and don't be some damn loud. Seriously, didn't England teach you manners when you were a colony?"

The American chuckled awkwardly, "I don't think I was listening too much when he was explaining them to me. It didn't sound important."

Scotland huffed in annoyance as he sat back on the messy bed where America could see that England was curled up under the covers, fast asleep. The Scottish nation leaned in to check if England was still asleep and then he pulled back and glowered at America, "You're lucky your loud voice didn't wake him up. God knows how tired he already is, he needs his rest."

"Oh, so he did wake up before?" America questioned inquisitively, smiling widely at the Scot. He could see that Scotland was still not in the best of moods, but somehow America hoped he might be able to break through the ice that had formed between them.

"Yes." Scotland answered stiffly, not meeting America's gaze as he pulled the covers closer to England.

"Come on, are you still pissed off at me for before?" America whined, looking at the Scot with pleading eyes. He really didn't like being treated so coldly by anyone.

"Oh no, I am definitely NOT pissed off by the fact that you considered me a threat to England and actually thought I wanted to hurt him again." Scotland ground out sarcastically, turning to look at America angrily.

"Look, I'm sorry about that," America apologised with an awkward smile, "I didn't mean to imply any of that… it just came out. I didn't seriously think that you had come to hurt England…"

"Oh really?" Scotland questioned sceptically, raising a thick eye-brow at the American.

"Really," America replied in a determined voice, walking up to the bed to stand over the Scot. As an immediate response, Scotland stood up to face America challengingly. America internally winced at the cold eyes of the Scot. The American smiled weakly, "Hey, can't we just forgive and forget? No real harm was done, after all." America offered the other nation his hand in a peace-offering.

Scotland looked surprised by the honest gesture and seemed to take it into consideration for a moment. He stared at America's hand silently for a while, briefly looking up at America's face with narrowed. Eventually Scotland gave America a strained smile as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Nay… I think I'm going to let you squirm a bit longer than that. You did imply that I meant to hurt my own brother, which isn't something you can easily forgive."

"Aww, come on, do you really need to keep a grudge against me because of something I just blurted out without meaning to?" America whined, looking at the Scot pleadingly.

Scotland simply gave America a bitter grin and proceeded to say, "Now that you've checked on England, you can leave again. He's sleeping and I won't let anyone wake him up until his body has recovered from the illness. There's no point for you to be here."

"But I want to stay with England in case he wakes up again." America protested, feeling a tinge of annoyance that Scotland was trying to kick America out of the hotel room. This wasn't Scotland's room anyway, what right did he have in deciding who gets to stay in the room? America pouted at the older nation, crossing his arms over his chest too to underline that he wasn't going anywhere.

The Scot looked mildly surprised by America's resistance but he simply shrugged his shoulders and said, "Alright, if you insist on staying here and watching over England for the duration of the lunch-break, I might as well go and deal with some unfinished business."

"Unfinished business? With who?" America asked inquisitively, curious to know what Scotland wanted to do. He didn't look any happier than before, meaning that he was going to deal with someone or something he really wasn't happy about.

"None of your business lad," Scotland replied with a smirk. He turned around to leave the hotel room, only looking back at America briefly before adding, "And don't wake England up. Let him get his rest, he needs it."

"Of course I won't wake him up, what type of nation do you think I am?" America joked lightly as he smiled at the Scot. Scotland made an unimpressed face and rolled his eyes, turning to walk out of the hotel room and close the door behind him carefully.

America did note though that Scotland hadn't seemed as angry or hostile as before. He seemed to have mostly calmed down now but it seemed like he was too prideful to give America the mere satisfaction of knowing that he wasn't holding a grudge against the American anymore.

But America really shouldn't be surprised. England was also a very stubborn and proud nation so it wasn't shocking that Scotland would be just like England in that aspect. For all he knew, it could be a family thing.

Shaking his head at the thought, America turned and sat down on the bed, looking at the sleeping island nation. All signs of the sweating sickness had disappeared, and instead a small smile had replaced the pained expression. America chuckled softly as he reached forward to brush some of England's locks out of the Brit's face.

England was going to be fine. America just knew it.

* * *

After a hastily-eaten sandwich, Ireland turned his attention to the task that was at hand. Firstly, he had to spot the nations he wanted to talk to and tick one event after the other. Perhaps he should try with the ones that were the least connected to England's suicide.

Re-entering the meeting room, Ireland glanced around to spot the nations he wanted. His eyes fell first on Greece, who was obviously enough dozing contently at his place. Honestly, the Greek nation had the sleeping pattern of a cat. Was there ever a time where Greece was completely awake and energetic? …Ignoring the times where Turkey was involved of course, everyone knew that Turkey was able to easily set Greece off.

Ireland approached the snoozing Greek quietly and he gently shook the shoulder of the Mediterranean nation. Greece jolted awake and he look around to see who had woken him up. He gazed upwards at Ireland, his olive-green eyes questioning.

The Irish nation coughed awkwardly as he began apologetically, "Sorry for waking you up Gréig, I just need to ask you a few quick questions."

"What is it?" Greece asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes as he gazed at Ireland in mild curiosity.

Ah, now the awkward part. Ireland sighed before asking the Greek nation, "Do you know something about the dance of Zalongo?"

Greece's eyes widened and the nation sat up straighter as he stared at Ireland in mute shock, all sleepiness forgotten. Yep, he knew of that event. Ireland shifted uneasily and stared at the ground.

"Yes, what of it?" Greece answered, sounding highly doubtful and uncertain. Of course this event was a sensitive one to Greece, it had occurred only in 1803. A group of Souliot women and children had been trapped by Ottoman troops in the mountains of Zalongo after the defeat of the Souliots against the Ottomans in the Souliot War. Rather than be captured, the women first threw their children off the cliffs and then they jumped off the cliffs after them. Quite grisly in Ireland's opinion.

"Err… did Sasana ever ask you about that event?" Ireland questioned slowly, wanting to ensure that England had spoken to Greece about that mass suicide. Ireland couldn't really spot anything that might suggest that England was influenced by it.

Greece frowned in confusion and after a moment, he shook his head. Ireland couldn't help but sigh in relief, that was at least one mass suicide event England hadn't gotten in detail in. Greece looked even more confused and Ireland hurriedly explained, "Sorry for the question, but Breatain Beag found a book on the dance of Zalongo that belonged to Sasana."

"Why would England have a book on that… event?" Greece questioned, looking quite perplexed by the fact that England had been interested in something that was so horrible and sad.

Ireland scratched his head uncertainly as he answered, "We think it was because Sasana's suicide attempt was inspired by different events where mass suicides happened. But the fact he didn't ask you about it means that he wasn't influenced by the dance of Zalongo. I think that's a good sign, it makes the list of mass suicides that he did study in detail smaller."

"I suppose it is a good sign… but why mass suicides?" Greece looked slightly lost, he couldn't see the logic for a nation to study mass suicides.

The Irish nation shook his head and said, "Too long to explain now, I'll tell you later if you want to. Now I have to go and question other nations." He nodded at the Greek nation and he turned to go off to another nation on his list. Greece could only watch Ireland in confusion, wondering what was going on.

The next nation Ireland spotted was Indonesia, one of the nations who was on his list. Ireland wasn't too sure what Wales had written on the list of mass suicide events, the word "puputan" was alien to him. But considering that Wales had written in brackets "Balinese term, ask Indonesia", Ireland supposed that Indonesia would probably explain to him what "puputan" was.

"Hey Indinéis?" Ireland called out to the Asian nation as he approached her. She was sitting at the meeting table as well, reading a book. She looked up in surprise, not expecting to be addressed by the Irish nation.

"Yes Ireland?" Indonesia asked curiously, standing up to face the Irish nation.

Ireland hesitated slightly before questioning, "Bali is one of your islands, right?"

"Yeah, she's a province of mine." Indonesia responded, looking at Ireland uncertainly.

"Did Sasana talk to you about her before his suicide?"

Indonesia frowned and shook her head. "No, but he did…," she paused, looking thoughtful. Indonesia continued, "England did ask me if he could talk to her though."

"And?" Ireland had a sinking feeling about this.

"I gave him her phone number," Indonesia explained shortly.

"So you didn't think it was strange that Sasana wanted to talk with one of your provinces?" Ireland exclaimed, absolutely perplexed. Ireland himself wouldn't have let England talk to one of his own counties without questioning the reason behind it.

Indonesia shrank back slightly but then she bristled before huffing, "I did think it was a bit strange but I saw no harm in letting him talk to one of my provinces. He also had a strange expression when he asked me if he could talk to Bali. There was something sad in his eyes despite all his attempts to hide it behind his facade… I… I didn't have the heart to refuse his request."

"Could you please call your province and ask her what exactly Sasana wanted to know from her?" Ireland asked wearily, wondering numbly just how long England had been showing the now-obvious signs of his unstable mind. Honestly, it wasn't normal for a nation to want to talk with a province who was geographically so far away from the other.

"Err, I could but… why?" Indonesia looked confused by Ireland's request.

The Irish nation sighed and added, "Just ask your province if Sasana asked her anything about… puputan."

"Puputan?" Indonesia frowned darkly at the mention of the Balinese word. "You mean… the Balinese term for mass suicide ritual?"

"That's what… it means?" Ireland asked weakly, hating the translation of the word.

"Why would England want to know anything about puputan?" Indonesia demanded, looking at Ireland sharply.

"I'll explain later, I have to talk with other nations." Ireland answered hurriedly, turning around to walk away, leaving a confused Indonesian behind him.

Ireland looked at his list and then glanced around to spot another nation who was on his list. He spotted Israel sitting at the table at the other side of the room, reading through some notes. The Irish nation sighed as he made his way towards the Israeli, already wondering how he was going to ask Israel about the siege of Masada and Yodfat.

* * *

During the rest of the lunch period, America stayed faithfully by England's side. Though he did keep a sharp eye on England most of the time, with nothing happening, America found himself getting a bit bored and fidgety. England seemed at least to have a peaceful sleep, mumbling incomprehensible words sleepily from time to time, but otherwise, he thankfully showed no signs to be suffering from a nightmare.

America had even taken England's hand into his own in the hopes that he might be pulled into England's dream again and see what was going on. But either England was having a normal dream or he was having a dreamless sleep. Either way, America had to find something else to occupy himself with.

He did walk around the hotel room for a while, trying to find something that might catch his interest. America picked up a book from Ireland's bed but as he tried to read it, he was annoyed to find that it wasn't in English. Hell, half of the book didn't even seem to have the good old Latin alphabet!

The American dropped the book back on the bed and after having looked around the room for something interesting, he finally turned his attention back to England and walked over to the Brit's bed. America leaned over England to watch him curiously, wanting to see if England was anywhere near waking him.

Apart from the soft breathing, England made no other sound or movement. America sighed sadly, he would have liked for England to wake up. He knew that England had just been through a quite traumatic illness, but he did want to see a healthy England and hear him speak normally again. England's delirium and singing was still firmly implanted in his head, no matter how much America tried shaking the memory away.

But America respected England's need to sleep and recover. And he was sure that Scotland would give him hell if he did try to wake the small island nation up. He didn't need to experience Scotland's hostility twice.

Staring at the watch that he had "borrowed" from Canada, America realised that lunch time was almost over and the meeting was going to resume soon. Obviously England wasn't going to wake up anytime soon so America decided that he might as well return to the meeting. He could pass by after the meeting and see if England would be awake then.

Before he left the hotel room, America realised that Scotland had still not returned. He looked back at England hesitantly, wondering if it would be a good idea to leave England alone. But Scotland would be returning soon, right? Well, England wasn't completely helpless… he could be alone for a few minutes, right?

America wasn't sure… he didn't want to leave England alone, in case he got a bad memory or was attacked by the dark voice again. However, America would be yelled at Germany if he came late to a meeting again. America eventually reasoned that Scotland would go back to the room once the meeting started up again.

Speaking of which, America noticed that he had about two minutes left before he was late for the meeting. America sighed as he left the room, walking in a swift but "I'm late anyway" manner.

Hopefully Germany wouldn't freak out over America's lateness. Or else America would hold the German nation responsible for making him leave England behind on his own. Honestly, why Germany was so obsessed over these meetings, the American would never be able to understand.

* * *

When America arrived at the meeting room, he was surprised to find that the meeting hadn't resumed at all. No, the nations were even still talking to each other and walking around. America stared at "his" watch, wondering if the watch was running later than normal. The 45 minutes of the lunch break had already passed, by this point, Germany would be calling the nations to order. The German nation was almost like a Swiss clock, there was no way that Germany would be late.

Looking around in confusion, America walked back to his place to sit down beside his brother Canada. Looking over to the European side of the table, America spotted Scotland who was talking with France. Well… if it could be considered talking.

France was sitting down while the Scot was standing over the French nation, looking down at the blonde nation as Scotland seemed to be growling something to him. Scotland was looking quite annoyed, practically pissed off. This sure didn't seem to be his day and America wasn't too sure he wanted to ask why Scotland was so angry against France. You'd think both nations were buddies because they used to work together to make England's life harder, Auld Alliance and all. But today Scotland was anything but friendly towards France.

Apparently France had done something bad enough that he was being told off by Scotland. France was wearing a weak smile that was practically screaming "Don't hurt me" and every so often, France would nod his head quickly, almost reminding America of a bobblehead,

Scotland eventually seemed to have said everything he wanted to say and he looked up briefly, his gaze falling on America for a split second. Scotland looked thoughtful for a moment and then he turned back to France. When he spoke to the French nation again, he looked a lot calmer and less threatening. France nodded quickly and replied with shaky smile.

The Scot shook his head and said something else before he turned around and walked away from France. America saw France let out a sigh of relief and America couldn't help but have his interest piqued with what both nations had discussed. Perhaps he could ask France later…

As Scotland was making his way out of the meeting room, no doubt planning to return to the hotel room. But he then bumped into Ireland. The other nation seemed quite agitated and worried, carrying his phone around him and occasionally looking down at it. Scotland staggered back and immediately noticed that something was amiss. He started questioning Ireland but the Irish nation shook his head and hastily explained something before hurrying off, leaving a confused and worried Scot behind.

Reluctantly, Scotland gave Ireland a last glance before turning to leave the meeting room, definitely unhappy to leave his brother behind like this. America frowned, he wondered what he had missed. Something wasn't entirely right, but England was fine. Why did Ireland seem so agitated then? What had he discovered?

While keeping a close eye on Ireland, America noticed that Germany was over 15 minutes late. What was holding Germany up? He had never been this late before, he was the nation who told others off for being even 5 seconds late.

Turning to look at Canada, America asked in confusion, "Do you know what happened to Germany? Or was the lunch break extended?"

Canada, who had been staring at something, snapped out of his thoughts and turned to the American in surprise. He answered, "I haven't heard anything about the lunch break being extended, but Germany is quite late. I don't know what happened though. Did you notice Ireland's odd behaviour?"

"Yeah, what's up with him?" America turned his attention back to Ireland, the island nation was now talking to Sri Lanka with worry etched on his face. Sri Lanka shook her head after a moment and while Ireland did let out a sigh of relief, he nonetheless didn't look less worried. He seemed to thank the Sri Lankan nation and then he walked away, looking down at his phone again.

"I have no idea, but I've been watching him for a while and he's been going from one nation to another, apparently asking them sensitive questions because they all reacted oddly to it. I saw him ask Israel and Lithuania just a while ago. I think he has a list, he keeps looking at his phone." Canada stared at Ireland closely, looking quite confused by the Irish nation's actions.

Ireland was still staring at his phone, mouthing something to himself as he read it from the phone and then he looked up, apparently looking around for someone. His eyes fell on America and he started making his way towards the American.

Well, that was a perfect opportunity to find out what Ireland was doing exactly. America stared back at Ireland curiously as the Celtic nation approached him. Ireland slowed as he came closer to the North American nation, biting his lip uneasily. Ireland then asked, "Meiriceá, have you ever heard of Heaven's Gate?"

America frowned at the strange question and he shook his head, answering, "Never heard of that name, is it a band or something?"

Ireland ignored the question and instead inquired hopefully, "So you were never asked by Sasana about Heaven's Gate?"

"Where are those questions coming from?" America demanded rather sharply, now that he knew that it had something to do with England. What had Ireland discovered about England that he hadn't told anyone about yet? Where were those questions coming from.

But once again, Ireland didn't answer the American's question. He simply concluded as he stared at his phone, "So that means Sasana never asked about Heaven's Gate to Meiriceá… alright, one thing less on the list."

In frustration, America reached out and grasped the Irish nation's wrist, causing Ireland to tear his gaze away from his phone. America demanded exasperatedly, "What's going on Ireland? Why are you going from nation to nation asking questions? What do you know?"

Ireland rolled his eyes and exhaled heavily. He muttered quietly, "Meiriceá, if I explained to everyone I asked why I was asking these questions, I would spend half of the day talking with them. You can ask me later on, but now I need to go through the list and ask everyone on it."

He pulled his hand out of America's grasp and strode off purposefully, looking around for another nation who was on his list. He nearly bumped into Switzerland as a result, causing Ireland to hastily apologise to the Swiss nation. Luckily Ireland hadn't walked too far away so America could hear Ireland's question as he asked Switzerland, "Éilvéis, have you heard of the Order of the Solar Temple?"

"Yes?" Switzerland replied cautiously, staring at Ireland with sharp, questioning eyes. Switzerland seemed quite taken aback by the unexpected question, that much was clear from his expression.

"Did Sasana ever ask you about it?" Ireland questioned slowly, a hopeful tone in his voice.

Switzerland frowned at the question but he shook his head, indicating that England had never approached the Swiss nation with this subject. Ireland let out a sigh of relief and thanking Switzerland for the answer, Ireland walked off.

Looking quite mystified, Switzerland continued walking and happened to pass by America and Canada. Though he hesitated at first, America eventually dared himself to ask, "Hey Switzerland, who were the Order of the Solar Temple?"

The Swiss nation turned to look at America with incredulous eyes and a raised eyebrow. He answered uneasily, "It was a secret society which carried out several mass suicides of its members in different locations a few decades ago. It didn't only happen in my country, in also happened in France and in Canada, in Quebec to be more precise. But the majority of the suicides occurred at my place."

"No wonder the name seemed familiar…," Canada mumbled darkly as he remembered when all that had happened, just around in the 1990s. What especially angered the Canadian was what the society had done before all the mass suicides. The leader back then had identified a baby from one of the members as the Anti-Christ and he then had the baby killed by stabbing the boy multiple times with a wooden stake. That Order was nothing but sick.

America looked quite taken aback by the information and he hesitated for a moment before asking, "So… do you know who Heaven's Gate was?"

"I'm surprised you don't know," Switzerland noted, sounding slightly stunned, "It was an American UFO religion where all the members committed mass suicide in 1997."

"What's with all these mass suicides?" America demanded in a confused tone. He looked at both Switzerland and Canada but both shook their heads to show that they weren't any wiser on this. It was very noticeable that the main theme was mass suicides, but what connection did that have with England? Apart from the obvious suicides… they really needed to corner Ireland and find out what the heck he was asking all these questions for. What did Ireland know that no one else knew?

Canada then questioned Switzerland curiously, "By the way Switzerland, do you know where Germany is? He is unusually late today."

Switzerland smiled grimly at that as he nodded. "Yes, I know why Germany is so delayed today. Apparently Prussia managed to break out of the hotel room and Germany is attempting to catch him. He told me that he wouldn't resume the meeting as long as Prussia was out, he wants to avoid another incidence like the water bottle fight."

America couldn't help but chuckle at that, "Poor Prussia, he never gets a break from Germany."

"It's more the vice versa situation…" Switzerland said with a sniff. He then sighed as he added, "I need to talk with a few other nations and then I probably should go after Ireland and inquire why he's asking these question about mass suicides. He must know something that he hasn't revealed to anyone else yet…"

* * *

"Seapáin? Can I ask you a few questions?" Ireland asked wearily as he approached Japan. The list was gradually getting smaller and the Irish nation was glad about that. Most of the mass suicides had been a miss rather than a hit, for which Ireland was glad. Apparently England hadn't been so inspired by all these events. Ireland couldn't see what effect the suicides of entire cults would have on a nation, which is probably why England never asked about the cults. But the sieges of Yodfat and Masada, as Ireland had found out from Israel, had resulted in the death of the representations of these fortresses. But it wasn't that different from Numantia's suicide. It was a similar story for Pilėnai, a Lithuanian fortress that had preferred to destroy itself rather than let the Teutonic Knights get it. Lithuania had actually looked quite angry when he told Ireland about Pilėnai, the subject was sensitive to the Baltic nation as he had been apparently nearby when it had happened and it had plunged Lithuania into a depression that had lasted at least a month. But Ireland could not see how that had inspired England, nothing as horrible as a mass suicide had occurred before England tried committing suicide.

Well, there was still two more nations on his list, Japan and Germany.

"Yes Ireland?" Japan responded with a look of surprise, looking up from some notes he had been going over.

"You know about the Battle of Saipan?"

Japan quickly seemed to withdraw at the mention of that battle and he looked down at his hands, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. After a long moment of hesitation, Japan answered, "Yes, I do."

"Did Sasana come to you asking questions about it before his suicide?" Ireland questioned carefully.

The Japanese nation did a strange jerk of his head and he looked up at Ireland in astonishment, stuttering uneasily, "A-as a m-matter o-of fact, he d-did. I didn't know where his strange interest in that particular battle came from but I told him what he wanted to know."

Ireland held back a groan, having a bad feeling in his gut about this mass suicide event. He asked quietly, "Could you tell me what Sasana asked you and what were your answers?"

Japan frowned as he thought back to that strange day when England had turned up at his doorstep with those strange and uncomfortable questions. He began hesitantly, "If I remember correctly, England was strangely focussed on what effect the battle of Saipan had on Saipan himself, I think he just asked questions about Saipan."

"What happened to Saipan?" Ireland questioned, trying to remember who Saipan was. Wasn't it a Pacific island, one of the Mariana Islands? It was under Japanese control in WWII but towards the end of the war, America managed to invade the island. However, Ireland was not sure about what had happened to Saipan after America gained control of the island. Certainly something bad had happened, that much was clear to the Irish nation.

"When America and his soldiers came to Saipan and drove… my forces back… my former b-boss feared that my people who lived on the island would see the generosity of the American soldiers and they would lose faith in the war and sympathise with the Americans. So my former boss sent a message to the people living in Saipan, encouraging them to commit suicide… sadly, a lot of civilians listened and jumped off the cliffs." Japan explained slowly and uncertainly, switching his gaze between looking at Ireland and then directing his attention to his hands. He inhaled shakily as he continued, "22,000 people died on that island, a majority of them being suicides. The effect of having so many people willing to end their lives was… overwhelming for Saipan and he couldn't help but follow his people."

"So Saipan committed suicide along with his people?" Ireland asked weakly, sighing sadly. It was impossible for a small island like Saipan to ignore his dying people, he would have been driven mad by the mutual desperation his people were feeling as they flung themselves from the cliffs. There was no doubt that Saipan would have done the same.

Japan nodded uneasily, "That is unfortunately the case… though I am not sure if he did ever succeed. If I remember correctly, Saipan did jump off the cliff but America managed to get to him and pull him out of the water. But I am not certain, you might have to ask America about that."

"Was this all you told Sasana?"

The Japanese nation nodded again, this time more decisively, "Yes, everything I've told you, I've told England."

"Nothing else?"

"Nothing."

Ireland nodded in confirmation as he typed a quick message to Wales about Saipan, curious to know what Wales could make of this event. There didn't seem to be any visible influences that would have inspired England's suicide, but it was perhaps more obscure. Wales was good at finding obscure things.

He looked back at Japan and thanked him, "Thanks for telling me."

"But why ask those questions?" Japan asked in confusion, staring back at Ireland. His normally emotionless eyes were conflicted, clearly Japan didn't like being reminded of Saipan and what his ex-boss had done to ensure that the "fighting spirit" of the Japanese would remain steadfast.

"I'll explain later, I still need…" Ireland looked at the list on his phone and he sighed. The last one to go was either Germany or Prussia. Preferably Prussia, Ireland really couldn't see himself asking Germany about the suicides that occurred towards the end of WWII. But he couldn't see Germany and he knew that Prussia was still locked up-

"Hey guys, did you hear about Prussia?" An excited voice interrupted Ireland, causing Ireland and Japan to look besides them. South Korea was approaching them quickly, a wide grin on his face.

"What about him?" Japan questioned curiously.

"Seems like he broke out of the hotel room and now Germany is after him. It might take some time for the meeting to start again because Germany wants to get Prussia back into the hotel room before he starts the meeting again. I heard that all from Switzerland!" South Korea declared happily, proud of the fact that he got all the knowledge from a reliable source.

"Really?" Ireland asked surprised, he was aware that Germany was absent and the meeting was taking its time to resume again, but he hadn't thought that Prussia was out and about. Ireland wondered briefly if he could maybe track Prussia down and talk to him before Germany found him. Prussia was a master of hiding, but Ireland believed he had a chance of finding him.

Noticing that South Korea had begun to chat with Japan, something about an invention that he had created with Japan doubtfully wondering the credibility of the Korean's words, Ireland decided to give it a shot and go after the Prussian. It was almost certain that he was near the meeting somewhere, waiting for his chance to plunge everything into chaos like last time.

Ireland walked away and started searching for the possible places where Prussia might have hidden himself. The Irish nation walked out of the meeting room and looked around for any good hiding places where an albino avatar could hide. Being albino wasn't very helpful when you wanted to hide or blend in. Prussia shouldn't be too hard to find.

After about 10 minutes of searching, Ireland had to hand it to Prussian for being able to hide himself very well, too well almost. Ireland had gone almost all over the building, in the meeting room (the meeting was over an hour late now) and up and down the halls.

The Irish stopped and looked around, scratching his head in confusion. Had Prussia completely avoided the building? He wasn't planning on crashing the meeting? Or was he possibly frightened off by Germany's rage? Well… Prussia would say that he was "too awesome" to do that…

As Ireland scanned the hall he was in, his eyes fell upon a small door neatly tucked away in a corner, so small and insignificant that Ireland had barely noticed it. It looked like a closet… but would Prussia pick such a place to hide? Wasn't it too small? Ireland approached the closet slowly and carefully, wondering if Prussia was in there by any chance.

He came to a stop in front of the door, split between opening the door or knocking on it. Ireland would look really stupid knocking on a closet's door… but he might look suspicious opening it as well.

Suddenly, the door of the closet opened and a hand shot out, grabbing Ireland by his arm and dragging him swiftly into the closet. Ireland barely had the chance to cry out in shock before someone clapped a hand on his mouth, effectively silencing him.

"Shh, you're going to give my awesome hiding place away." Prussia hissed lowly, red eyes frowning at Ireland in the dim light that managed to filter through the shades. Ireland stared back at Prussia with wide eyes, trying to calm his panicking heart down. Damn it, Prussia had almost scared the wits out of him with such a sudden movement. Ireland was even amazed that he and Prussia both fit in such a small closet, though they were a little cramped.

After Prussia thought that Ireland wasn't going to make any unnecessary loud noises, he removed his hand and leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest before questioning quietly, "You've passed by this place a few times, searching for something. What do you want from me?"

Ireland cleared his throat, speaking lowly as well, "I need to ask you a few questions."

Prussia grinned, "Ask away, the awesome me knows every answer to every question."

"Before Sasana committed suicide… did he come to you asking questions about… the suicides that happened at the end of WWII?" Ireland blurted out, steeling himself for the oncoming awkwardness that would settle once again between him and the avatars he was questioning. Ireland was so glad that this was the last nation on the list…

As expected, Prussia's shoulders become rigid and his body tensed up at the mention of WWII. His red eyes narrowed as they stared straight into Ireland's green eyes. Prussia's grin became grim and he replied tensely, "Yeah, so what if he did?"

Ireland groaned softly as he covered his face with his hands, exhaling deeply to get rid of his rising frustration. Why the hell had England asked so many nations questions about the mass suicides? Ireland was starting to feel slightly depressed of all this knowledge he was gaining on the mass suicides. He sighed heavily, "What exactly did Sasana ask you?"

Prussia looked away for a moment, thinking back before he answered hesitantly, "He seemed more interested in what effect all those mass suicides had on Bruder and me… even on the smaller representations. He seemed especially interested in Demmin."

"Demmin?" Ireland asked in confusion.

"Small town up in the north of… what used to be my territory." Prussia replied, sounding bitter. "She was a lively little town…"

"What… happened to her?" Ireland questioned hesitantly, feeling like he was treading on unstable ground.

Prussia glowered at the Irish nation as he growled, "I don't know the specifics… all I know is that that bastard Russia came to her town and all her people panicked and many committed suicide, causing Demmin to go batshit insane and copy her people's actions. Maybe you should ask Russia if you want to know what happened to her exactly." Prussia spat the last sentence out, gritting his teeth together. Obviously this event lay closer to his heart and was painful to remember, considering that it hadn't happened so long ago.

"Is that what you told Sasana?"

"Ja." Prussia answered stiffly.

"Sorry Prúis…" Ireland apologised quietly, looking at the fuming Prussian. He hadn't wanted to twist the thorn so much in Prussia's heart, but he needed to track down all the influences England had taken in to create his own suicide. He was very glad he had asked Prussia instead of Germany, Ireland could see that if it was bad for Prussia, it was certainly worse for the younger German nation who had to watch everything crumbling around him.

The ex-nation huffed slightly but he also smiled grimly. "Look Ireland, these memories are just too fresh for me and they definitely are too fresh for my Bruder. You don't have to feel bad for asking, but you know how one gets when they're being asked to remember something that really hurts them. By the way, why're you asking these questions?"

Ireland groaned in frustration, this would be the umpteenth time someone had asked this question and it was really wearing Ireland's patience down. Might as well finally answer one of them. He muttered, "Breatain Beag and I think Sasana used various mass suicide events as inspiration for his own suicide. It's a long story…"

"No kidding?" Prussia looked absolutely shocked, his eyes widening. "England was seriously doing that? If I had known, I would have never told him anything."

"There are many things we wouldn't have done or said if we had known that Sasana had planned to end his life. But no one saw it coming so how could we have known?" Ireland sighed, flexing his spine as he felt his muscles stiffen in response to his cramped position. The closet was really too small and all the cleaning utensils and brooms weren't making it easier.

Both nation and ex-nation jumped when a phone started ringing and vibrating very loudly. The song "I'm awesome" started up, making Ireland roll his eyes. Why wasn't he surprised that Prussia had that as his ring tone? Prussia froze, eyes widening as he whipped his phone out of his back pocket and stared at it in mute shock.

The Prussian muttered weakly, "Shit, why did I leave my phone turned on? Crap, crap, crap, he found me, he found me… I have to get outta here."

Ireland, though very confused, had a sinking feeling. He asked, "Who found yo-"

Both avatars became deathly silent as they heard the stamping sound of someone approach the closet ominously. Prussia was so still that Ireland almost believed the ex-nation had somehow managed to turn himself into a statue. Ireland swallowed very quietly, trying not to move a single muscle as well.

The heavy footsteps stopped in front of the closet and after a few seconds of terrifying silence, they heard Germany growl, "Preußen, I heard your phone. Get out of this closet or I will personally drag you out myself."

Prussia remained frozen in his spot, his eyes straining to the side of his head to look out through the shades of the closet. Ireland wondered whether Prussia's mind was also frozen or was it currently trying to put together a plan of evasion. But there was nowhere to run! The only way to leave was being blocked by his younger brother.

Germany gritted his teeth as he spoke again, "Bruder, if you do not leave this closet in 3 seconds, I will come in myself and drag you out and back to the hotel. There is absolutely no way for you to escape."

The other Germanic nation finally seemed to snap out of his daze and he slowly turned his head to fully look through the shades. His red eyes narrowed and Ireland knew that NOW, Prussia was planning something.

"Alright, you're asking for it…" Germany sighed in frustration, "Drei, zwei… eins..." Prussia shifted slightly in his position, as if he was readying himself to pounce. Ireland could only watch in confusion, unsure of what the Prussian could achieve in this position.

"NULL!" Prussia bellowed as he jumped right at the moment where Germany was yanking the closet open. Germany was caught off guard by the unexpected pounce and he stumbled backwards, almost falling on his back. Prussia landed just in front of him and leapt over his younger brother, hitting the ground running as if his life depended on it. There was one thing Ireland could confirm without a doubt, Prussia was extremely quick when he wanted to be. He disappeared around the corner of the hall in a flash, leaving the nations behind.

The younger German brother stood up and ran after the Prussia, yelling loudly, "GET BACK HERE DU IDIOT!" After a few moments, the voice of the angered German faded away and Ireland was left in a more peaceful silence.

Ireland let out a sigh of relief, Germany could really be frightening. It was especially bad with Prussia since the ex-nation knew exactly how Germany ticked and knew perfectly well which buttons to push to make the German nation crack. Ireland did wonder why Prussia enjoyed wreaking havoc all the time… perhaps he really was lonely.

"Ireland?"

The Irish nation jumped at the unexpected voice and he saw standing right outside of the closet Switzerland, the alpine nation have crossed his arms and staring at Ireland oddly. Ireland quickly staggered out of the closet and became quite red in the face when he saw what kind of questions were in the Swiss nation's eyes.

"I-I was d-doing nothing of that n-nature with Prúis! Nothing of that sort!" Ireland declared hastily before Switzerland could begin questioning him.

Switzerland looked at Ireland with dubious eyes but then he seemed to shrug the suspicion away. He instead went straight to the point why he wanted to talk with the Irish nation. "Ireland, I want to understand why you're asking all those questions about mass suicides. I've noticed that you've asked a handful of nations these questions. Do you know something that you haven't told us?"

Ireland shifted uneasily as Switzerland's sharp eyes bored right into his. He still needed to find Russia… Ireland swallowed heavily as he tried thinking of a way out of this situation. He knew he would have to answer those questions eventually but he just needed to ask one more nation. He replied quickly, "I'll explain later, but I still need to talk with Rúis…" He sidestepped Switzerland and made his way back to the meeting room. Unfortunately, Ireland could hear that the Swiss nation was following him now. Great, he wouldn't be able to shake Switzerland off.

As both nations re-entered the meeting, Ireland looked around to spot the Russian. It was never too difficult to find Russia, seeing as he was one of the biggest nations. As expected, Ireland soon spotted Russia not far from here, sitting beside Lithuania and he attempted to strike up a friendly conversation with the nervous Baltic nation. Poland was sitting on Lithuania's other side and was glaring at Russia fiercely, his green eyes narrowed.

Telling himself that this was the last nation, Ireland sighed and made his way towards Russia. Once he was close enough to the bigger nation, Ireland cleared his throat to attract Russia's attention. Russia stopped talking and turned around in his seat to look at Ireland curiously.

"Err, Rúis… could I ask you a few questions?"

Russia nodded slowly, answering, "Da, why not?"

"…They're possibly of a sensitive nature so a bit more… private?" Ireland winced slightly at his hesitant tone, he had never been very comfortable around Russia. He dearly hoped that none of the questions would put Russia into a bad mood…

"Alright?" Russia replied, his purple eyes becoming questioning as he stood up. Ireland turned around and led Russia away, leaving behind a confused Poland and a hesitant Lithuania who knew what type of questions Ireland wanted to ask.

They took a few steps until they were near the wall and Ireland turned to face Russia. Switzerland sidled up to them, his stern eyes curious despite himself. Ireland took a deep breath before he asked, "Rúis, do you remember Demmin?"

Russia frowned at the unexpected question and he slowly said, "I think it is one of Germany's towns…"

"Did Sasana ask you anything about Demmin's state at the end of WWII?"

The Russian nation's eyes lighted with recognition as he remembered the city's name. Russia nodded, "Da, he strangely enough did, it was a few months ago. I never understood why he wanted to know so much about Demmin…"

"What did you tell Sasana?" Ireland questioned warily, fearing that Demmin had been another source of inspiration for England.

"Demmin was one of the German towns my soldiers took over towards the end of WWII…," Russia shifted slightly, looking uneasy and slightly guilty. Ireland was surprised by the expression. Russia continued hesitantly, "I have to admit that many of my men acted wrongly, they did horrible things to the people of Demmin. Many women were raped, the town was sacked and most of the town was burned. The people of the town were driven into mass panic and many of them started committing suicide by either shooting, cutting their wrists, hanging, swallowing poison or throwing themselves into the nearby rivers Peene and Tollense."

"What happened to the representation of Demmin?" Ireland asked weakly, already suspecting the answer.

Russia shrugged his shoulders helplessly, "More than 80% of the town was burned and around 1000 people committed suicide. I don't know what killed her first, the destruction of her town or she was driven into insanity and followed her people and tried committing suicide along with them. I found her trying to kill herself many times and she failed very often. She tried drowning herself many times but I kept pulling her out of the river. Demmin also swallowed cyanide pills but she threw that up very quickly. She tried hanging herself but my men kept cutting the rope and one of my soldiers nursed her cut wrists when she tried killing herself that way. I eventually lost sight of her as the numbers of people drowning increased and I think she did succeed in the end. Either that or she lost all of her memories. Either way, when I found her again several months later, she had completely forgotten who I was and barely knew what had happened to her town."

Ireland bit his lower lip uneasily, these events were truly horrifying. Poor Demmin, she hadn't deserved to suffer so much… however much Ireland looked at her case, he couldn't really find anything that might have inspired England in his suicide. Perhaps the cyanide pills had convinced England that if he swallowed a poison strong enough, he would be able to kill himself.

"May I ask why you're asking these questions?" Russia asked suddenly, staring at Ireland with questioning eyes.

"I would like to know that as well." Switzerland finally spoke up, crossing his arms as he awaited Ireland's answer.

"I would also like to know what you asked about Pilėnai." Lithuania questioned as he approached the small group of nations, staring at Ireland with curious eyes.

"Where did these questions about Saipan come from?" Japan asked as well, walking up to the group.

"And why did you ask about the Dance of Zalongo?" Greece added as he sidled up beside Japan.

Indonesia walked up to the growing group of nations with her phone in her hand. She called out to Ireland, "I just talked with Bali, England did phone her a few months ago but after a few questions about what effect the puputan had on her, he thanked her for answering his questions and hung up. Why did you want to know this?"

"Any explanation why you wanted to know about the siege of Yodfat and Masada?" Israel questioned as he approached the group with a curious expression on his face.

"What is going on?" Portugal asked in confusion, walking closer to the group of nation.

"Hey Ireland, why did you ask me about Heaven's Gate?" America piped in as he and Canada joined the group as well.

By this point, Ireland had been forced to back away from the growing number of nations demanding answers from him and he suddenly found himself completely cornered by the other nations. He looked around helplessly, getting slightly claustrophobic as the nations moved closer to him and their demands for answers grew louder. He couldn't take it anymore. "ENOUGH!"

Everyone silenced immediately after Ireland had yelled. Ireland glared at the group of nations, huffing quietly to get his temper under control again. Ireland sighed, "I will answer your questions, no need to smother or corner me to squeeze the answers out. Ask one question at a time and I will answer them as fully as I can. And please stop crowding me. Got that?"

The other nations looked between each other and some of them nodded, taking a few steps back to give more space to the Irish nation. Switzerland looked at Ireland closely and motioned him to begin. Ireland inhaled deeply and began explaining from the beginning.

* * *

"Alright, I've answered all the questions that have been thrown at me. Are there anymore?" Ireland asked wearily, looking at the group of nations that had somehow grown larger as he answered one by one the questions of the other nations. The large gathering had attracted other nations and as drawn to the gossip as they were, it was understandable that Ireland almost had an audience.

This irked Ireland greatly, he disliked seeing that so many nations were attracted by such dark subjects as suicides just because they could feel better about their own lives. Ireland could see in the eyes of several nations that they were just interested to hear how twisted England had been before his suicide, nothing else. He would have gladly asked them to leave but Switzerland and the others left him no choice as they riddled him with questions upon questions. Now Ireland could only feel relief that he seemed to have answered the major ones.

"But…was England really studying all those mass suicides to influence his own?" Canada questioned slowly, sounding perplexed.

Ireland nodded as he said, "It would seem like it. Sasana was looking for the most efficient way to kill himself by looking at how other avatars killed themselves in the past. The biggest influence seems to come from the town Numantia, this avatar killed himself by swallowing poison." He turned to look at Spain who had at some point joined the "audience" and he asked, "Sasana did ask you about Numantia some time before his suicide, right?"

Spain blinked in surprise but then he said, "Yes, I was confused why he wanted to know about Numantia but I didn't think I was doing anything wrong by telling him about Numantia."

"Technically, you weren't doing anything wrong. You were just accidently giving him ideas on his suicide." Ireland sighed, amazed that none of the nations England had questioned ever wondered why exactly England was asking those questions. Sure, some of them had thought that it was odd, but why hadn't even one of them thought to ask around, to ask how England was doing? Asking about mass suicides wasn't an everyday subject after all!

"But where did England get his interest in mass suicides from? He surely didn't get it out of nowhere." Switzerland asked in a thoughtful tone, looking at the nations around him before settling his gaze on Ireland.

Ireland shrugged, "That's one question I haven't been able to answer myself. Sasana seemed to know about all the mass suicides when he was asking the other nations. Someone else that I don't know of must have sparked an interest in him on that subject."

"I… I think I know where his interest came from…," came the hesitant reply from the audience of nations. All nations turned around to look at who had spoken out. Portugal stepped forward, looking quite guilty and apologetic.

"Who told him about it?" Canada questioned Portugal, voicing the question that was swirling in everyone's mind.

Portugal rubbed his arm uneasily as he looked up to stare at Ireland directly. He replied awkwardly, "It was… me."

"You?" Ireland asked in astonishment, looking at the Portuguese nation with narrowed eyes.

"England and I… were discussing bad plays several months ago, almost a year ago. I mentioned the play Numantia and told him about the story. England got curious and asked me to tell him more about the real place the play was based on. I told him that Spain would know more about Numantia than I would." Portugal explained as he dropped his gaze down to the ground, shifting from one foot to another.

"Wait, you were talking about bad plays and you mentioned my play Numantia? But that play isn't bad!" Spain protested as he looked at Portugal, looking slightly affronted.

Portugal met Spain's gaze and he answered grimly, "Any play is bad when it encourages an audience to cheer after a mere boy commits suicide."

"So wait… England was studying all those mass suicides so that he could find the best way to kill himself? Why didn't anyone notice that until now?" America demanded incredulously, looking at Ireland with stunned eyes.

Ireland shrugged his shoulders again as he answered, "Breatain Beag didn't find the books until today because they had been buried under stacks of paper. He only found them now because he bumped into the table and they all fell on the ground."

"This would be interesting to discuss further in detail in the meeting, wouldn't it?" Switzerland mused loudly, looking thoughtful.

"No!" Ireland, Canada and a few other nations exclaimed. Switzerland was taken aback by the refusals and he looked at those who had voiced their disapproval.

"Why not?" Switzerland questioned with a confused expression.

"I think we've made public to the world enough of England's life for today." Ireland pointed out darkly, looking very uncomfortable.

"This might be more counter-productive than you would want it to be," Canada explained, looking at Switzerland closely.

"In what way?" Switzerland demanded simply.

"It might be giving someone else the wrong idea… rather than a warning." Canada sighed, giving Switzerland a meaningful glance. Switzerland seemed to comprehend what the Canadian meant and he nodded to show his understanding.

"You know," America began, thinking hard. "Instead of talking about whys and hows about England's suicide, couldn't we maybe think on how to make it understood to any other potential victim that they aren't alone and they can ask for help? England was definitely alone and wanted help but he didn't know who he could turn to. I think the other nations need to know that this option exists."

Switzerland and the other nations looked quite astonished and impressed by America's proposition. Canada stared at America in surprise before he broke into a smile. Some of the nations looked between each other and with the exchange of some murmurs, many started nodding to show their approval of the idea.

America glanced around, actually surprised that most of the group seemed to be agreeing with his idea. America hadn't even considered the idea, he had only thrown it out there because he knew that England would have needed to know that people were there for him. To stop anyone else from committing the same mistakes as England, they firstly needed to know that they didn't have to face their depression on their own.

Germany staggered into the meeting, looking extremely tired and worn out. The entire room fell silent and many nations turned around to look at the German nation with worried eyes. Germany spoke hoarsely after a few moments, "We may resume the meeting know. Due to unforeseen circumstances, we have taken quite a delay. As a result, the meeting will be a lot shorter than normal. I apologise if this is an inconvenience to anyone."

"I don't think this inconveniences anyone…" A nation muttered very quietly at the back of the room, no one managed to see who it was but they certainly voiced everyone's thought on the matter.

"We may begin." Germany declared tiredly, dragging himself back to his seat.

* * *

Once every nation had settled back in their place, Switzerland took the lead again as he stood up to face the other nations. He started the meeting by saying, "Originally, I would have continued on the path that we were before the lunch break was declared. However, America proposed a subject that would be very important for us to consider as well."

Switzerland stood up and walked back to the white board, wiping off what he had written and he started to write something new. When he moved away from the board, everyone could see that he had written the question "What can we do to make the others know they are not alone?"

The question was allowed to sink in for a moment before Switzerland asked, "So, does someone have a suggestion?"

After a few seconds of silence, Argentina spoke up, "But isn't it a bit redundant to tell a nation they aren't alone? A nation has their people, their cities and their regions. No matter how much a nation tries, they are never truly alone."

"But how many of us confide in our cities and regions?" Switzerland pointed out calmly, crossing his arms as he waited for the South American to come up with an answer to his question.

China shook his head as he said, "We practically never turn to our cities or regions for comfort. They depend on us, not vice versa. We aren't supposed to show our weakness because we live longer, we are more stable than the smaller avatars. We're their leaders and we share their pains."

"But it sort of depends, I do talk with my states from time to time." America frowned at the other nations, unable to figure out why the others looked like they barely knew their own regions and cities.

"So do I with my cantons and Germany has the same relationship with his Bundesländer. But for most of the other nations, contact with their regions is quite rare, if not non-existent." Switzerland answered, looking at the other nations meaningfully. He continued, "So, how truly alone are we? Very few of us have ever admitted a weakness to a smaller avatar. Even though we're surrounded by so many, we're expected to bear their burdens. Who bears ours? Are we meant to be without emotional support?"

Some of the nations shifted uncomfortably in their seats but none ventured to answer the Swiss nation's questions. Everyone knew that Switzerland was speaking the truth. Though they were surrounded by so many, they were also on their own. They had to carry the weight of the entire nation on their back and so, they were expected to deal with their problems on their own.

"Everyone, close your eyes." Switzerland requested quietly. Most nations did so, while a few gave Switzerland questioning looks before the Swiss nation's stern gaze convinced them to do the same. After a moment of silence, Switzerland asked, "Raise your hand if you've ever felt on your own and if you feel like you have no one to turn to."

America realized what Switzerland had done. Anonymous votes. The nations could express their opinions without having the peer pressure on them. In honesty, there were times where America had felt very bogged down by work and stress and it seemed like he had no choice but to swallow his frustration and continue ploughing on like a machine. The American raised his hand very quietly but he heard other hands being raised as well. The feeling of being on your own was not as foreign as one may think.

"Open your eyes." Switzerland commanded.

America opened his eyes and noticed that almost everyone had their hand up. Even the Argentinian nation had his hand up, despite his earlier claims that it was redundant to ask such a question. The South American nation coughed awkwardly as he lowered his hand. Most nations did the same after a few seconds of looking around to see who had their hand up.

"So, as our smaller avatars and humans expect us to be their shoulder, we might as well turn to each other for support and comfort. No doubt it has been done by many of us for quite a while, especially those nations who have been blessed by good ties among neighbouring countries. But for a good number of us, there was no such luck. What should we do about them?" Switzerland questioned, looking at the other nations for a proposition.

"Firstly we should look at our interactions with other nations in general and decide with who we get along the best with." Japan proposed slowly, seeming hesitant of his answer.

However Switzerland nodded and then he continued, "That is something to keep in mind as well. But what is the best method to keep in touch with everyone else?"

"Phones and internet chat are our best bets." America pointed out.

"I think that for everyone, the phones are the best way to stay in contact with others." South Africa corrected, looking at some of the less economically fortunate nations.

India looked thoughtful for a while before she suggested, "How about we set up a crisis hotline for ourselves?"

"Crisis hotline?" Many nations echoed, a majority of them unsure of what that was.

"Many humans use it when they're contemplating suicide, they call a crisis hotline so that someone can talk to them and offer support and comfort. Most suicidal people are less likely to commit suicide after they have talked with someone. Couldn't we technically do the same thing?" India explained as she looked at the other nations to gauge their reactions to her idea.

"But don't those things require trained volunteers who know what to do in those situations?" Hungary pointed out hesitantly.

"Well, nations for nations. No trained human would be able to offer us much support, it would be far too alien and strange for them to handle our cases. But other nations understand what we go through… we don't necessarily have to wait until we're suicidal, I think we should be able to call when we just feel like it's just too much." Portugal explained, looking around at the nations.

"Yeah, I think we can make it, like, so that you can call and if the other is not, like, too busy and they can come and talk with the depressed nation." Poland piped up, sounding excited about his idea.

"But we should be careful with geographical closeness. If a South American nation called and got an Asian nation on the other side, would the Asian nation know how best to comfort the other? There would be certainly some culture clashes and misunderstandings." Mexico looked thoughtful as she added, "And a few other nations, they don't get along too well and would benefit from talking with other nations that are geographically further away. This crisis hotline would have to be well organised."

Switzerland nodded in approval, appreciative that so many nations were offering ideas and contributing to the crisis hotline idea. He continued, "Yeah, the crisis hotline would have to be quite well-organised and it should also respect the different time zones we're all in."

"We should also think of a phone number that would be saved on everyone's phone." America proposed enthusiastically, proud that all this was originating from his original suggestion to help make other nations feel that they're not alone. Who would have thought that the idea would kick off so well?

"I think it would be good to also have a few nations who are responsible for connecting from one nation to the other and we should start a list to see who feels comfortable with comforting and who feels they can take on more difficult situations and such." Germany suggested as well, seeming less tired and more determined as more and more nations started discussing and making the idea of a nation crisis hotline a reality.

The nations continued discussing and planning the crisis hotline and almost everyone managed to have some kind of input in the discussion. In all honestly, America had never seen all the nations work harmoniously together like this. Everyone wanted this crisis hotline because they knew that it would help them. This would be something the nations would be able to turn to when things just got too much.

No nation would ever have to feel like they have to face their problems on their own.

* * *

As Germany had promised, the meeting ended at its appointed time but most nations felt that the meeting had been almost too short. Switzerland had suggested that they might be able to continue figuring the concept of the crisis hotline tomorrow, even though a good chunk of it had come well together during the meeting. Many nations were enthusiastic about the idea of the crisis hotline, it was one of those rare times where everyone agreed that it was a good idea.

Just as America was standing up to leave, he and Canada were surprised to find that New Zealand was blocking their pathway and started herding them towards a smaller gathering of nations who stood right next to the doors.

America noticed that he and Canada weren't the only ones being herded. He saw that Australia was nudging Ireland and a few of the African nations towards the growing group as well while India seemed to be gathering her siblings. It looked like the group was mainly comprised of… England's ex-colonies.

"Hey, what's going on?" America questioned curiously, looking around at the group of nations. Most of the nations looked between each other and shrugged, looking no wiser than America.

Both Australia and New Zealand seemed to take the lead though, the Australian whistled to get everyone's attention as he and the other Oceanian nation stood in front of the group. The other nations all turned around and directed their attention to the two nations.

"Alright, I think we have everyone here." Australia declared with a smile, looking around at the other nations.

"What is it Astráil?" Ireland asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I, New Zealand and India want to hold a meeting separate from the main meeting tomorrow. We were hoping all of you guys would consider coming to the smaller meeting rather than the larger one." Australia explained, looking around at the other nations.

"What will be the smaller meeting be about?" Canada questioned curiously.

Australia and New Zealand looked at each other hesitantly before New Zealand explained, "We want to… figure out the origin of England's depression."

"Didn't we already do that today?" America pointed out, frowning slightly.

"Nah, we looked at how England became suicidal," Australia said while shaking his head, adding as an afterthought, "I think New Zealand and I aren't the only ones who are curious to know when exactly did it start going all downhill for England. We all know he wasn't the happiest of nations, but I do think that his depression hasn't been with him since the beginning. I'm almost sure it's rather recent even."

"Look around yourselves," New Zealand encouraged, "what do we all have in common? We've all lived with England for a while. Though England has interacted with most of the world, we are the nations who know him the best. We knew what tea he wanted to drink given in what mood he was, we knew what swears he'd use judging by how angry he was and very often we knew what mood he was in just by looking at how he moved and what words he used. We all learned at some point to read past his mask and understand him."

"And sometimes, we could understand him better than he could himself." Australia finished with a smile. He then said, "Which is why I want to know why we missed the deterioration of his depression and why none of us suspected in time that something was wrong with England. I think we need to know what caused his depression in the first place."

"You know it won't be easy to make it out, depression can be the result of many things." South Africa pointed out, sounding dubious.

"As well as that, England probably would have recovered tomorrow. Should he be included in this meeting or not?" India added as well, seeming uncertain.

"I don't think it would be bad for England to be present." Canada mused thoughtfully.

"It would be also a good idea for Wales and Northern Ireland to come along as well." Australia proposed to Ireland, looking seriously at the Irish nation.

Ireland blinked in surprise at the suggestion but he replied hesitantly, "I'll see if they'll come…"

"That would be great if they could," New Zealand said happily, turning his attention back to the other ex-colonies, explaining, "You don't have to come to the smaller meeting if you don't want to. We're simply asking those who would be interested in coming along and discussing England's situation with us. It would be nice though if you would all come, the more the merrier."

"But have you asked Germany about this?" Malta asked doubtfully.

Australia grinned widely, "Of course we did, and he said he's fine with it as long as we don't slack off and do absolutely nothing."

"I could arrange so that we would go to another room tomorrow…," India commented lightly, looking thoughtful.

As America looked around, he could see that in most of the nations' eyes, they were already decided. They wanted to come to the smaller meeting. Like America and others, they all wanted to know the origin of England's depression. When it had started, when it had taken a turn for the worst?

Hopefully they would be able to find those answers tomorrow.

* * *

"Hey England, are you awake?" America whispered quietly, entering the hotel room cautiously. The door had been left unlocked so America knew that Scotland was still in the room. But when he had opened the door, he could see from an angle that the Scot was sitting against the closed door of the bathroom and had apparently fallen asleep. Strange place to doze off, but the American figured that Scotland was probably very tired.

More the reason not to wake him up, hence why America was being so quiet. But he still wanted to check whether England was awake or not.

"Yes?" A familiar voice called out. America saw England sitting on the covers, looking a lot better than he did this morning. His eyes were wide open and healthy, all signs of delirium having left him. He wasn't even sweating anymore.

"Shh! You'll wake Scotland up." America hissed as he slowly closed the door behind him and made his way towards the Brit.

"Don't worry, if I remember correctly, Scotland is a heavy sleeper. You'll have to be a lot louder to wake him up." England spoke in a normal voice, looking over to the sleeping Scot.

"Ah, okay. That's good then." America laughed lightly, sitting down on the bed beside the island nation.

"I heard that you got into a fight with him this morning." England commented, shifting his position so that he was sitting cross-legged on the bed.

America coughed awkwardly as he answered, "Nothing to worry about, we just had a bit of a… miscomprehension. That's all." The Brit looked unconvinced by America's words but he didn't push the subject further. America then asked, "So, how're you feeling now?"

"Well…," England paused, seeming thoughtful, "Scotland did try to smother me with a pillow at some point," When he caught America staring at him in horror, England grinned mischievously, "…just joking America."

"Oh," America blinked and smiled sheepishly, "Yeah, a joke. I totally knew that." He hadn't believed for a second that England was serious. Nope. "But I mean really, how do you feel now?"

"A lot better, I hope I'll never have to go through that sickness again. It was horrible." England shuddered at the memory of the fever. He was sure dealing with his delirious self hadn't been exactly a pleasant experience for the others. He looked at America and questioned, "So, what happened during the World Meeting today?"

Oh, oh… America would have to tell England about the discussion on his suicide… how was the Brit going to react to that? America sighed and scratched the back of his head. Finally he replied, "We… kinda talked about you. Well, to be more specific… about your attempted suicide."

"They did WHAT?" England exclaimed, his eyes widening with disbelief as he stared at the American in confusion. His expression soon darkened to a discontent frown.

"Don't hate me." America blurted out suddenly, not wanting to have someone else angry at him. He already had a pissed off Scot, he didn't want to have England angry at him on top of that.

England looked at America with a surprised expression. He shook his head as he said, "I don't hate you America, but why talk about my suicide? Did you guys take advantage of the fact that I was sick to discuss it? But why make it public?"

America shifted awkwardly as he explained, "We talked about it to stop from others from ever considering suicide… as an alternative. We also talked about what we can do to be there for the others. Believe it or not England, your case is actually causing a chain reaction."

"Oh." England looked surprised by the explanation, having not realised how important his case was to the others. "I hadn't thought about it that way."

America smiled at that, glad that England was beginning to understand why they had discussed his attempted suicide. The American had really been nervous about England reacting negatively to it, the past England certainly would have been angrier more than anything else. America added, "Yeah, but the discussion isn't completely over. We sort of have a second, smaller meeting going on tomorrow, going in a different direction than the main one."

"Who's going to be in the smaller meeting?" England asked slowly, some hesitation clear in his voice.

"Well, there might be you if you want to, me, Canada, your brothers… and just about every Commonwealth nation."

"But what's the meeting going to be about?"

"The other nations, especially Australia, New Zealand and a few others, want to discover the origin of your depression. They want to know at what point your depression started." America explained warily, waiting to see how England would react.

England blinked a few times, looking thoughtful. He finally asked, "And do they want me to be present?"

"Well…You're not banned from the meeting or anything like that," America laughed lightly before he added more seriously, "But you can only attend the meeting if you don't judge your past self more harshly. There's no point for you to be there if you're just going to hate yourself more."

"It's a meeting on why I became depressed, not a meeting on all the bad things I've done. I suppose my esteem of myself won't decrease if I'm in that meeting." England smiled sheepishly at America as he shifted his position slightly.

America grinned as he pointed out, "You better not, you know that none of us like hearing you talk badly of yourself."

"That's been made clear to me several times already." England sighed, dropping his gaze down to his blankets contemplatively. He said after a moment, "I think I'll come as well. I've done enough sleeping, I also want to know why I wanted to stop living."

"Great, but like I said, we'll be keeping an eye on you to make sure you don't think badly of yourself. Got that?" America ruffled England's hair, causing the Brit to scoot back from America and look at him in mild annoyance. America asked innocently, "What, it's been ages since I've done it to you."

"You're not the only one who enjoys doing it and it's really unnecessary," England huffed in annoyance as he tried flattening his hair down again. Out of the corner of America's eye, the American could have sworn he saw Scotland shift and stare at America with narrowed green eyes.

When America turned to look at Scotland directly, the Scot looked like he was still asleep. But America was a bit uneasy now, he was almost certain that he had seen Scotland open his eyes and stare at the American. Suppose Scotland was only pretending to be asleep?

"So, anything else you wanted to tell me?" England asked inquisitively, oblivious to the fact that America had seen that Scotland was maybe just pretending to sleep.

"Nah, I think there's nothing else you need to know…" America answered slightly nervously, looking at Scotland again. Though the Scot had moved at all, America was almost certain that he wasn't truly asleep. His gut feeling was telling him so.

"Thank you."

America blinked in surprise as he turned around to face England. The Brit was looking at America with wide honest eyes and a warm smile on his face. England stood up on his bed and climbed on America's lap, wrapping his arms around America's neck and hugging him.

"W-why are you t-thanking me?" America stuttered slightly, praying that the warmth in his cheeks was not a blush resulting from the unexpected hug.

"For taking the time to tell me on what was going on, for being so supportive to me and for… simply being there for me. Thank you for all that." England answered as he pulled back, smiling happily at the American.

"Oh, err… you're welcome, I guess." America grinned back, feeling his heart skip a beat at the sight of the smiling Brit. England had no clue how beautiful he looked when he smiled warmly like that. Oh great, now America felt his blush darken. England would ask him about it soon enough. He looked at his watch as he hurriedly said, "Wow, time sure goes by very fast. I can't believe it is that late already. I better be heading back to my hotel room."

England climbed down from America's lap and looked up at the American, a curious expression on his face. Was he noticing the blush on America's face? America smiled sheepishly as he stood up from the bed. From the corner of his eye, America was almost convinced that Scotland was staring at him with narrowed eyes. Of course when he turned to look at Scotland directly, the Scot looked like he was still asleep.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow then, alright?" America turned to England, his smile becoming slightly nervous. He wasn't too sure why… maybe it was the fact that he felt like Scotland was sort of stalking him or the chances England would point out the blush and question it seemed to increase with every passing second.

"Certainly." England replied with a smile, though he still seemed to be staring at America with questioning eyes. America bade his farewell and he hastily left the room. England looked after him in slight confusion and he wondered out loud, "Why was he so red in the face? Did I say something wrong?"

Someone started chuckling and England whipped his head around to see that his brother was wide awake and trying all his best not to burst out in laughter, a small chuckling escaping from him.

"Scotland? When did you wake up? Or were you awake this whole time?" England questioned perplexed, wondering how Scotland had managed to stay still all that time.

At that, the Scotland couldn't help himself and he burst out into laughter. Between the gasps of laughter, Scotland managed to say, "One thing you should know England… I'm a very light sleeper… and I don't nod off so easily," Scotland continued laughing mirthfully, "You seriously should have seen America's face, he was starting to look so spooked!"

"You scared America away?" England asked loudly, feeling a bit annoyed that he hadn't noticed that Scotland had been pretending to be asleep all this time.

"He left for another reason." Scotland chuckled as he stood up from the ground.

"Like what?" England demanded, crossing his arms over his chest tightly.

Scotland grinned widely as he tapped the side of his nose with his finger. "You're not old enough to figure it out yet."

* * *

"Canaaadaaa!" A whiny voice called from across the hotel room.

The Canadian sighed, the all too familiar voice grating his nerves. When America called him like that, Canada knew that the American was going to complain about something being unfair. It was always like that and no matter how much Canada ignored him, America would keep calling him like that until Canada finally cracked.

"Canaadaa!"

"What?" Canada finally said exasperatedly, giving in to America's demanding voice.

"Why doesn't England love me yet?" America complained. He was bundled up in the thin sheets of his bed, creating a safe cocoon for himself. Only his head was poking out of the bundle of sheets, staring at his brother. On the other side of the hotel room, Canada was in his own bed reading a book.

Canada was surprised by the question, where had this one suddenly come from? Canada looked up from his book and stared over to America. The American was staring at him intently, his blue eyes plaintive.

"America, I did warn you that you would need patience for this. England won't fall back in love with you overnight." Canada rolled his eyes, America never was any good with patience.

America pouted and wrapped the sheets closer around him, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. "But I want him to remember that he loves me soon. I don't like waiting so long."

"Actually what brought on this question? Did something happen between you and England today?" Canada asked curiously, genuinely interested to know if something had happened. America was silent for a few moments before volunteering the information.

"I just asked him about what he thought about me…"

"…and he said he didn't love you?" Canada finished teasingly, a light smile playing on his face.

America frowned and shook his head, "No! …He said he liked me."

"Well that's already a great start America!" Canada exclaimed brightly. America looked at Canada uncertainly and bit his lower lip nervously.

He asked slowly, "But Canada, when will England start to remember his feelings for me?"

Canada shrugged his shoulders, "How am I supposed to know? All I know was that it wasn't a "head-over-heels" love instantly. It was a gradual one so I assume it will be the same for England this time around. It was only by being with you that his love strengthened over time."

"So," America began carefully, "I should be more with him so that he falls in love faster?"

"America, excluding his brothers, you're the nation who is the most often with England." Canada sighed heavily, "Don't rush things like that. You won't gain anything from rushing love America."

"But I want things to go faster!" America whined, turning onto his stomach again and burying his face in his pillow.

"Well, now you know how England must have felt all these years before he attempted suicide."

The American looked up again at Canada and exhaled loudly. He hadn't actually thought about how frustrating it must have been for England to deal with his romantic feelings towards America all those years ago. Had he had the same problems like America? Between telling America, not telling America, wondering if it was really love and all that, England certainly must have had some difficulty dealing with all this.

Canada spoke again, "At the very least England trusts you and if he starts initiating contact-"

"He is." America cut in.

"He what?" Canada asked in surprise, a bit irritated that his brother had yet again interrupted him in mid-sentence.

"Initiating contact." America elaborated, his cheeks flushing a little.

"That's already a positive sign America!" Canada smiled, trying to sound convincing.

"How do we know that it isn't brotherly love he's feeling?" America demanded quietly, dropping his gaze on the ground. He heard Canada predictably sigh again, America knew that he sometimes annoyed the heck out of Canada. But he sometimes really needed to hear from someone else the opposite of what he feared would happen.

He then heard Canada's calm voice, "America, you just need to have more patience and trust in England's feelings. It will eventually come. I can't promise you anything else. Now go to sleep, we still have a meeting tomorrow."

As Canada turned off the light from his side of the room, America pouted at the unfairness of his situation. Why did he have to wait so much? Why was love such a complicated thing? Well, he was a hero after all so he should be able to hold this out. He only had to imagine that time was his enemy and that it was trying to see how much endurance America had in waiting for England to fall back in love with him.

America smirked as he too switched the lights on his side of the room out. As he lay down on his bed, America firmly made the promise that he wasn't going to lose to this new enemy.

Heroes always won in the end!

* * *

"-And that's what happened to Demmin, though I can't see what influence her suicide had on Sasana." Ireland finished explaining to Wales, clutching the phone close to his ear. He had now told Wales everything Ireland had found out from the other nations. It felt good to get it all off his chest, it had really started to weigh down on him.

Scotland and England were on the other side of the room, listening intently to what Ireland was saying. Ireland had previously explained to them what Wales had found and what Ireland had found out from questioning the nations the past England had questioned just a few months ago. As the night had worn on, Ireland proposed that they should all try to sleep after he had called Wales to inform him the things he had discovered. Of course England had spent most of his day sleeping, so it wasn't a surprise when England declared that he wasn't tired at all and didn't want to sleep. Scotland however had pointed out that if England didn't sleep in the night, he would have to sleep during the day where the meeting was going to take place. To bring balance back to England's waking and sleeping hours, Scotland proposed that England should take sleeping pills. England had eventually relented, seeing the logic in Scotland's proposition.

That was when Ireland had decided to call Wales, to pass to him all the information that he had gathered. As he talked, he noticed Scotland leaving the room for a few minutes and then returning with a packet of sleeping pills (how the Scot managed to get them, Ireland had no clue) and was giving England a glass of water to swallow the pills.

Ireland then noticed that Wales had become extremely quiet and if he hadn't been breathing softly, Ireland would have assumed that he had lost the connection. But Wales was still on the other side and he had heard everything. After a moment of uneasy silence, Wales questioned wearily, "And with England asking all those questions, not one nation thought that it was strange?"

"Of course, they all thought it was strange," Ireland answered, confused by Wales' tone. Wales sounded almost angry, which was pretty rare for the normally passive nation.

"And not one decided to question his behaviour further or even ask around how he was." Wales growled lowly, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

"Unfortunately not." Ireland replied uneasily, fearing an outburst from his Welsh brother. Although Ireland loved teasing his siblings just to see their reactions, if there was one nation's temper you didn't mess with, it was Wales'. Perhaps due to the fact that Wales was so rarely openly angry, no one liked seeing an angry Wales.

Fortunately, the outburst never came. Wales let out a frustrated sigh and he muttered, "We've made so many mistakes… in actual fact, England left us a lot of hints that he was not okay and yet no one saw it. All those mass suicide questions should have at least alerted one or two of the nations that it wasn't normal. You don't ask those type of question just out of nowhere. You can't claim that it is out of pure curiosity. It's like a human asking about what is the most painful torture you can inflict on another human being and then saying it is out of curiosity. That isn't normal, it's just completely morbid. That's the word… England's questions were not normal and no one should have shrugged it off."

"But Breatain Beag, no one ever thought that Sasana would consider suicide. Neither you, Alba, I nor anyone else could have guessed what he wanted to do." Ireland argued, trying to keep his voice low. England and Scotland were looking at Ireland closely, no doubt trying to figure out what was being said. England had swallowed the sleeping pill and Scotland was half-attempting to herd him back to the bed, but both nations had most their attention on Ireland.

Ireland looked back at the nations in annoyance, disliking the stares. He huffed quietly and turned his back on them, facing the wall. Wales coughed lightly to get Ireland's attention back.

"Yeah?"

"Ireland," Wales inhaled uneasily, letting it out shakily. He said quietly, "I sadly have more bad news."

"How can it get even worse than this?" Ireland blurted out, unable to believe that they could find a worse discovery than England's morbid curiosity in mass suicides.

"England's government… they KNEW that something was wrong with England!" Wales spat out, choking on his voice. "They knew and they fecking did nothing about it!"

Ireland was too speechless to respond immediately. He had to tighten his hold on his phone, lest he let it slip from his grasp. The Irish nation was caught in a whirlwind of confused and numbed thoughts, all of them turning around England's government. How had they known? Why hadn't they done anything?

"H-how?" Was the only word Ireland could force out.

"Remember the message you sent me earlier about Saipan? At first I was confused by your reason for sending it to me, but then I saw the key word: "order of Japan's ex-boss." I started thinking… we are nearly always under obligation to obey our boss, no matter how much we disagree with their motives and views. Could the fact that Hirohito had encouraged the people of Saipan to kill themselves have also influenced Saipan's mentality to follow them? So I called Cameron and asked him a few questions…"

"And?"

Wales sighed as he answered, "He told me that he and the others of the government had noticed the deterioration of England's work a few weeks before he attempted suicide. The work became sloppier with time, often incomplete and sometimes even disconnected. Cameron eventually decided to call England in and ask what was going on with him. And England… do you know what he asked Cameron during their conversation? England asked… quoted from what Cameron told me, England asked him if "it wouldn't be more beneficial for the sake of the UK to have England… p-put down"."

Ireland sucked in his breath violently and it took all his self-control not to shout or yell. He instead leaned forward and knocked his head against the wall, willing his mind and heart to calm down. But they wouldn't calm down, they were still trying to process the information. His gut twisted and his head felt light-headed. Ireland almost felt like he would lose his balance and fall backwards.

He inhaled deeply before attempting to ask, "And… w-what did Cameron do in response to that?"

"That's the worst part of the story," Wales muttered lowly, "Cameron assumed that England was simply… overworked."

"Overworked?" Ireland growled in disbelief, "Overworked you say? How DARE he assume something as simple as that? We're not fecking machines that can be turned on and off without an issue! So, what did Cameron do when he came to that "enlightening" assumption?"

"What else? He gave England a two-week break and told him to rest." Wales answered bitterly.

"That's it? How in the world did Cameron think that was enough? Didn't he think even for a second that Sasana needed perhaps a therapist, someone who could help him? Was he deaf or something? Sasana's words were clearly a cry for help, and Cameron brushed it off as simply overworking?" Ireland's regard of England's government was going lower and lower with every second. How asinine could they be and ignore signs that were practically screaming "help me"?

"It never occurred to Cameron that England could become suicidal. Apparently, we're not human enough for that in his opinion," Wales said with a sniff, "Cameron assumed that England was probably working too much and decided the best thing for him was to get some rest. And thus, by sending England home, he gave England more time to sink lower into his depression…"

"Didn't he even think of maybe calling one of us to check on him just to make sure Sasana was okay?" Ireland demanded angrily, not bothering to hold back his anger this time. Alright, Ireland could understand that humans weren't fully able to comprehend the nature of the nations and thus they were often led to believe that nations were nothing like humans. But just because nations lived longer, healed faster and were able to deal with a lot more trauma and memories than any normal human ever could, that didn't mean they were incapable of human feelings. Nations belonged to their people, they were human like their people. Nations would never be super-humans or unfeeling machines.

"Cameron was too preoccupied by other government issues and he simply hoped that things would get better for England eventually…" Wales said quietly, all energy seeming to leave him.

"At least there should be a law where we can sue a government for neglecting their nation," Ireland huffed angrily, "Honestly, that's just irresponsible to have someone in front of you who is clearly becoming more suicidal and you simply decide that all they need is some rest and then the world is fine again."

"Ireland, we're ALL irresponsible in this," Wales corrected sternly, "England's government was irresponsible, we as brothers were irresponsible, England's friends were irresponsible, England HIMSELF was irresponsible. NO ONE is innocent in this."

"But I can't believe that even the government missed it…" Ireland muttered helplessly, leaning his forehead against the wall. This couldn't get worse than this, they had hit the absolute rock-bottom of revelations. Ireland hoped to God there were no other nasty secrets that would thoroughly shake him and the others to the core. For even the government to ignore the signs… England's attempted suicide was starting to look more like a Greek tragedy that could have been avoided than anything else. He then remembered what Australia had asked him to do. Ireland asked Wales, "Breatain Beag, some of the nations tomorrow want to meet as a separate group from the others to discuss more in detail when exactly Sasana depression could have started. A lot of Sasana's ex-colonies want this discussion, they want to understand what happened. Astráil wants me to ask you to come tomorrow for that meeting, he says that your input would be valuable to the discussion. Can you come?"

There was a long silence on the other side and Ireland was once again tempted to believe that Wales had been disconnected. But Wales did eventually reply but it wasn't the answer Ireland was hoping for. "No Ireland, I'm not going to come."

"Come now Breatain Beag, you live the closest to Sasana so from all of us, you know Sasana the best. Look, even Northern Ireland might turn up tomorrow." Ireland tried to sound persuasive, he couldn't understand why Wales didn't want to come.

"Still, I'm not coming." Wales answered stubbornly with a huff.

"Why not?"

"Because I know I will get as many accusatory stares as possible from the other nations. The nations need a scapegoat for England's suicide and I will not be one. I just know that I will have the responsibility of watching over England and my failure to do so shoved onto me and all the other nations will try to blame me. No, I absolutely refuse!" Wales declared angrily, his voice rising in pitch.

"Breatain Beag, no one is going to do that. Or if they did, Alba and I will ensure that they eat their own words. But no one will try to blame you," Ireland said encouragingly, trying to convince the Welsh nation. Switzerland had emphasized to Ireland that it would be good to have Wales present, seeing as Wales was one of the nations who saw England more often and he knew England inside out.

"Look, if you really need someone who lives close to England, I'll send Cornwall!" Wales growled in annoyance.

"But…. Corn na Breataine is a county, not a nation." Ireland protested, confused by the fact that Wales was so desperate to send anyone else but him. Was he really so scared to get all the blame for failing to keep an eye on England? Did he really think the other nations were going to chew him out for that?

"Cornwall is considered a Celtic nation, so he's allowed to participate in the World Meeting as well. Or if you such a problem against a county, I can talk to Isle of Man and ask him to go instead. He's not a county." Wales sounded very irritated now, refusing to be cornered by Ireland's logic.

"I don't know about Oileán Mhanann, he isn't a county but he is a British Crown Dependency… and anyway, isn't he the most isolated from Sasana than anyone else?"

"Well I don't know, it's either Cornwall or Isle of Man, you take your pick!" Wales snarled furiously, "But I'm not coming! End of discussion!"

Before Ireland could say anything else, Wales hung up on him and the line went dead. Ireland leaned back from the wall and stared at his phone wordlessly, shocked that Wales had actually been so angry. Did the thought of being blamed really pain him so much? Maybe because Wales already blamed himself so fiercely for his mistakes that he didn't want to receive any extra weight… the only thing that was clear to Ireland though, was with Wales' legendary stubbornness, Ireland would have to expect the arrival of either Cornwall or Isle of Man tomorrow instead of Wales.

Just as he turned around to face Scotland and England, someone rushed towards him and wrapped his arms around Ireland's waist. Ireland blinked in surprise as he looked down to see that England had buried his face into Ireland's suit. England murmured sadly, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

"For what?" Ireland asked quietly as he crouched down to see England's face. Before he could do that, England wrapped his arms around Ireland's neck.

With a voice thick with sadness, England apologised, "I'm so sorry for hurting all of you, for hurting you, Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland, America, Canada… for hurting everyone. I didn't mean to hurt all of you!"

"Don't be sad Sasana, there's no use in crying over spilt milk." Ireland answered comfortingly, patting England's back. He picked England up and he straightened up, staring at Scotland. The Scot approached Ireland slowly, his eyes expressing his desire to know what Ireland had found out from Wales. But Ireland shook his head slightly, this wasn't the time. Scotland looked disappointed but understanding as well.

"Come on England, the sleeping pill's effect is going to kick in soon. You should be heading to bed." Scotland stepped closer and he lay a hand on England's shoulder. England leaned back slightly and he looked behind him at Scotland and then he turned his gaze back at Ireland uncertainly. His cheeks were wet with a couple of tears trickling down.

Ireland exhaled deeply as he brushed some of the tears away. "Sasana, you don't have to beat yourself up over something you no longer remember. It happened and no one can turn time back. The only thing we can do is heal and continue forward. Don't you think so?"

England looked hesitant but he eventually nodded. Ireland and Scotland both smiled and the Irish nation carried England to his bed where he set the younger brother down gently.

"Try to sleep Sasana, it's going to be a long day tomorrow," Ireland said with a small smile, but England could see there were many conflicting emotions in Ireland's eyes. Though England hadn't been able to guess what Wales told Ireland, England definitely knew that it was nothing nice and England felt guilty about it. He felt like his brothers and everyone else deserved more comfort than him. They all had to pick up the broken shards and put them together again, while all England did was stumble through and follow their lead.

England gazed up and saw that Ireland was leaving to get ready to sleep as well. Scotland patted England on his head, smiling widely, "Sweet dreams England, don't let that dark voice turn them into nightmares."

"I wish I could do that…" England sighed sadly as he pulled the blanket closer to him, dearly hoping that the dark voice wouldn't come after him.

Even though England closed his eyes, the tiredness didn't come at all, despite the fact that he had swallowed a sleeping pill. Maybe the pill wasn't strong enough. Or his fear of meeting the dark voice again was counter-acting against the pill's effects.

He heard Scotland and Ireland whisper for a short while but eventually they went to bed too, switching the lights off. England waited for a while for sleep to kick in, but when he heard the two other's soft breathing and he wasn't even an inch closer to sleep himself, England crawled out of bed.

England made his way across the hotel room and came to a stop in front of the other bed. He looked at Scotland and Ireland doubtfully but then he made his decision. England climbed onto the bed and made his way towards the middle between his two brothers. Curling between Scotland and Ireland, England closed his eyes and waited for sleep to claim him.

* * *

_England shuddered silently when he returned to the darkness of his mind, already fearing that the dark voice was there to attack him verbally or physically. Unfortunately, England was hit by the oppressive feeling of its presence, already telling the Brit that it was here._

_**It is now that you come crawling back, coward? **__The dark voice sneered, the sound approaching England quickly as if the ego was swooping towards him. England looked down at his feet and tried ignoring the voice._

_**Ignoring the truth will bring you nowhere idiot. **__The ego spat, seeming to circle the small nation menacingly. The Brit bit his lower lip in frustration, trying to think of a way to stop hearing the voice._

_He then suddenly remembered what Scotland had done. His brother had driven the ego away by concentrating on a positive memory. Could England do the same? He really wanted to shut the ego up, he was in no mood to listen to it. England got the feeling that the dark voice was responsible for pulling England into his depression. _

_England closed his eyes, trying to think of a positive memory. Sadly his previous self's memories were of no use, many , if not all, of the memories were tainted with sadness, anger or hatred. Right now those were all he memories that seemed to be occupying his consciousness. But what about a recent memory?_

_His stay with America was a positive memory, wasn't it? England remembered that he was fairly happy with the American, so he could use them as positive memories, right?_

_**Tell me weakling, what in the world are you trying to do? Thinking on fleeing from the truth? Hah, you're even more cowardly than the original England! Yes, you're not the original one, you're just a pathetic faded version of him. The original has been dead for months.**_

"_Shut the hell up!" England muttered angrily, shaking his head to dislodge the piercing words of the ego. He refused to be pulled down into the abyss of depression again. The island nation closed his eyes and tried thinking back to his time with America. He tried thinking about the fun times, about the time when England hadn't been haunted by his nightmares. He tried thinking of warmth. As the particular memories streamed back to England, he couldn't help but smile. What wouldn't he give to go back to a time where he was blissfully unaware of his past or of the dark voice, thinking that his nightmares were just that, nightmares. He wished that all his nightmares were unreal. He wished to be happy again._

_**What the hell are you doing? **__The ego questioned harshly, seeming confused as it felt the place shifting. England noticed that the dark voice wasn't as loud as before. This encouraged England to think of more positive memories. He felt something similar like water rush past him, washing away the darkness that had threatened to drown him. England kept his eyes closed tightly, but somehow he could feel the darkness surrounding him crumble with very little effort. He thought he heard the dark voice screech distantly but couldn't make out what it was saying._

_After a few moments had passed, England opened his eyes tentatively and looked around carefully. He found himself in a dome of white, separating the island nation from the darkness. England could still see the darkness outside but he was free from its influence. The white surrounding England was keeping the darkness at bay._

_He heard a violent snarl outside of the dome and for a split second, England saw a distorted hand trying to claw its way into the dome towards the Brit. But the claw-like hand quickly jerked back, as if it had been burned by the white. The dark voice couldn't prosper in the light, it was used to feeding on someone's pain, either England's or someone else's. But this white was made from no pain, only from pure happiness. _

_The ego couldn't stand pure, genuine happiness. It was like poison to it. England saw enraged green eyes staring at him from outside the dome, in the darkness. From the vibrations in the air, England could suppose that the dark voice was saying something but it's hateful words couldn't reach England._

_The Brit smiled triumphantly and experimentally tried to enlarge the dome by mentally pushing it outwards. The dome expanded automatically and he saw the dark voice jerk back as the white almost touched it. The ego was furious as it paced around the dome, trying to find a weak spot. _

_England's smile turned into a wide grin. He laughed, "You can't get me now, can you? You don't like stepping out of the darkness. You can't hurt me anymore!"_

_**You may have outwitted me but I can adapt… **__The ego's sickly sweet voice sneaked its way into the dome, the dark voice quickly catching on that its harsh voice or words wouldn't penetrate the white dome. It was already, frighteningly enough, figuring the dome out. _

_But the Brit frowned, nothing bad from the dark voice could reach him. So why was he so unsettled by the ego's words? Surely the dome was fool proof, wasn't it? England glared at the dark voice resentfully, wishing those damn green eyes would stop staring at him so intently._

_The dome picking up on England's wish, a spike of white grew outward, directly into the ego's face. Suddenly the green eyes were gone and the ground was shaking from vibrations, and England could only imagine that it was the dark voice screeching in pain. He glimpsed it briefly some distance from the dome, a shadow-like figure hunched over as it clawed at its own face. And suddenly, it was gone from sight and deathly silence descended on England. _

_The island nation shivered and mentally pushed the white dome further, taking comfort that he wasn't engulfed in the darkness where he would be at his ego's mercy. If the ego possessed anything of the sort. _

_England sighed and sat down, wrapping his arms around his knees. Now that the dark voice couldn't drag him into a negative memory, what should he do? Search for a positive memory instead? How could he do that? Where should he look? _

_Maybe at the beginning? Sure, England had seen that his earlier memories were far from positive, but there must be even earlier memories that hadn't been marred by unhappiness. England hoped so, he really would hate the idea that he had known nothing but sadness and anger from the start. But it wouldn't make sense, if England had known nothing but that since the beginning, he would have been incapable to show any type of kindness. And if he couldn't be kind, he wouldn't have other nations being so supportive of him. An unliked nation wouldn't be missed…_

_The island nation stood up and looked around the dome, wondering how he could search for his earlier memories. He walked around the dome, considering whether he should step out of the dome or stay inside. No… if he went out, he ran in the danger of being attacked by the dark voice. _

_He had to find the memories here, in the dome. England closed his eyes and frowned in concentration. He thought about going back, going into the remote past of his self. He felt a slight shift in the ground and England opened his eyes with a jerk. Beneath him, a characteristic memory hole had begun to open and England allowed himself to sink into it, unsure of what he expected on the other side._

* * *

_England wasn't too sure for the next few moments where he had landed. There was bright light surrounding him, blinding him completely. The light was whooshing around him quickly, almost in a tornado-like motion. It went quicker and quicker and England was starting to feel very dizzy. It felt like the lights were twisting around each other, the tension rising with every passing second._

_Suddenly, the tension broke and the light dispersed abruptly in all directions. England exhaled slowly, trying to blink his dizziness away. But it wasn't going away. England tried standing up but found that his legs weren't strong enough to respond to his commands. They moved a bit, however it wasn't enough to stand up._

_The Brit realised he was inside his past self's body and so he tried stepping out to get a look at the past England. But that didn't seem to be possible, he stayed stuck in the past England's body. He tried looking through his past self's thoughts but there weren't any thoughts. His mind was completely blank. _

_Everything was blurry and distorted. England tried looking around and noticed that he was in a forest, judging by the large amounts of trees that surrounded him. Or he thought they looked like trees. His vision was very blurry, no amount of blinking seemed to improve it._

_Why was he here? Why did he feel so confused and why was his past self so quiet? …Was this… the beginning? Was this his earliest memory? Was he seeing the first glimpses of the world that the past England was seeing? _

_So… this was the memory of being born? Talk about going to the earliest point, England hadn't thought that it would be possible for him to go this far back. But it didn't look like anything big was going to happen here, this was a memory of England getting used to his new surroundings._

_The past England raised a hand up to his face, staring in confusion at the strange object. He closed his hand into a tight fist, surprised when his hand obeyed to the command. He opened his hand slowly again and lowered his hand to the ground, letting his fingers touch the soft moss._

_England blinked as he pressed his hand closer to the ground, feeling something akin to pulsing beneath his hand. The earth was alive, breathing. The same power that was beneath him was inside him. England could feel that very well._

_The current England was confused, what was that power within him doing? Was this the indication that he was connected to the earth? It did feel strange, but at the same time it felt nice. It felt like England wasn't alone, that though he was so small, nothing else seemed to matter but this power in the earth. England felt connected to everything about him._

_The newborn avatar closed his eyes tiredly, a small smile on his face._

_Several memories flashed in front of the current England, indicating that some time was passing but the past England did not move much. At first he didn't move at all but with time England began to crawl around and that quickly evolved to walking on two feet. The connection of the power of the earth to him was not as noticeable but it was still there. _

_With the achievement of balance on two legs, England began attempting other feats, such as climbing on rocks and logs. Everything around him seemed so large, he felt so dwarfed by his surroundings. It would be good for him to gain a vantage point where he would have a better view._

_The past England couldn't know that this would put him in direct sight of something that might be potentially dangerous for him. However, England didn't know better. _

_England clambered on top of a large log and had a look around his surroundings. As far as his eyes could see, everything seemed to be covered in moss. Trees stood close together and there were many fallen logs. Dotting the forest floor were also a lot of bushes, many of them clumping together where there was the most sunlight. The forest was rather dense so England had yet to see the full splendour of the sun. For now, he could only spot soft shafts of sunlight occasionally penetrating the dense growth of the virgin forest, casting light on the more visible areas._

_While the forest was in its way silent, it was loud with the sounds of living. England could hear various creatures moving about and birds overhead chirping and flapping their wings. The small avatar closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, listening to the flow of the forest. Everything here was so peaceful and in harmony..._

_But England felt all of a sudden a strange twinge in his heart. There was something here that did not exactly belong to the forest. It wasn't alien but it wasn't a common visitor. What England found so odd was that it felt exactly like him, like if he and this intruder were of the same kind. However the young avatar was filled with the feeling of dread. He shouldn't be out in the open, so vulnerable. His instincts were suddenly screaming at him to run, to hide. He had to get away before he was spotted. _

_Looking around wildly for means of escape, England heard a twig snap in a very close proximity. Too close for comfort. Deciding to simply make a mad dash for it, England attempted to slide down the log and run towards the bushes. This surely would hide him from view of the other._

_However, before he could even begin to slide down the log, something grabbed him by the scruff of his dress and hoisted him into the air. England let out a panicked cry and struggled to get out of the other's grip. _

_"Woah, calm down little one, calm down!" The other exclaimed in surprise, not relaxing their grip on the small fear-stricken avatar. "I won't hurt you, calm down."_

_The small avatar froze and didn't dare move another finger. The unknown avatar sighed and turned the younger avatar around to stare at him. England found himself face to face with an unknown female nation, and he briefly wondered who it could be. He certainly hadn't seen her in any other of his memories. _

_She had green eyes just like him and her hair was light brown, though that was difficult to judge from the limited amount of light of the forest. But luckily, England could guess that she was of relation to his family. Although this would probably the first time that England saw the characteristic eyebrows of his family appear on a female nation._

_The female nation had been studying England as well, scrutinizing him sharply. She sat down on the log and set the small avatar on her laps. After a moment, she exhaled, "You look rather young, maybe just a few months old? Well… you're admittedly the youngest newborn I've found this far. Why are you guys always popping up?"_

_England looked at the female avatar blankly, still not knowing who she was._

"_Ah yes, need to wait a year or two until you can talk, huh?" The female nation smiled ruefully, shaking her head. She continued, "Anyway, since you're here, might as well introduce myself. My name's Albion. Or, according to that Roman bastard, I'm also called Britannia. But stick to Albion."_

_Albion then narrowed her eyes and looked closely at England. She frowned as she picked a few leaves out of England's hair, murmuring softly, "Wait, what hair colour do you have…?" She stood up with England in her arms and she stepped closer to a shaft of light. She inhaled sharply when she confirmed that, yes indeed, England had blonde hair. She let out a string of curses, "Damn it, this prophecy is really starting to piss me off." _

_She set England on the log, looking at him both resentfully and conflicted at the same time. Albion put her hands on her hips and growled, "This is the sixth time, if not the seventh time! And this time you come to me as a newborn! Small, cute, incapable of fleeing… gah, I'm really going soft! I can't kill you!" She glared downwards at the ground and stamped on it angrily. "Are you TRYING to make my life more difficult?" _

_The female nation inhaled deeply as she stared at the small avatar. The current England was feeling quite nervous but the past England was only staring at Albion curiously, having not understood a single thing she had just said. England did wonder quietly why exactly he had gotten the name Albion from this female nation. If he remembered, the fays had named England Albion. But why?_

_Albion sighed and covered her face tiredly. She mumbled, "If Rome finds out about you, he'll go crazy. I can't take you out of this forest, you have to stay here. The prophecy can't be allowed to be fulfilled. In the old days I simply would have killed you…" She trailed off as she looked at England with confused eyes. Albion continued, "…but I can't do that anymore. It's getting too difficult, I've grown too soft. That idiotic Rome got under my skin and now I don't have the heart to kill younger avatars anymore. Of course I know he did that in the hope that I would finally accept his little avatar from the prophecy…" _

_Looking at England, Albion picked the little avatar and sat back on the log. She huffed, "You know how easy it used to be to kill small avatars like you? Even though Rome kept emphasizing to me that I was a guardian and I had to protect the avatar he had appointed to me. But I had no qualms of killing the first few, some of them had strange accidents and even Pictland got to take out two of them. But then Rome found Kernow and then Cymru and suddenly… I couldn't kill those two. They looked so much like me…" Albion glanced at England briefly before she let out a small annoyed growl, "You look like me too now, the land really wants you to be born. No matter how many times I get rid of you, you'll keep coming."_

_Albion became thoughtful, starting to stroke England's hair absentmindedly. She mused, "Actually, Pictland also has the same problem. A red-haired avatar kept appearing on her lands and no matter how many times she killed him, he kept reappearing, different every time and yet always with that red hair. Of course she can't kill the current one anymore since Éire found him before her and he took the small avatar under his wing." She looked down at England with narrowed eyes. "So, I suppose there's no other way than to accept that you'll live in these lands from now on…" The female nation then laughed loudly, "Look at me, having a monologue with a newborn who probably hasn't understood a thing I have said."_

_After a moment of mutual silence, Albion sighed and stood up, placing England gently back on the log. She smiled at him sadly, "Well then, I suppose I should leave you here. And I probably won't see a lot more of you, if I want Rome not to follow me here and find you." She turned around and started to walk away. _

_England stared after her in confusion and let out a small sound behind his throat, sliding down from the log and attempting to follow the female nation. Albion turned around and she frowned at the newborn. She walked over to England and picked him up, placing him back on the log. "Don't follow me sweetie, you have to stay in this forest. I can't take care of you, I can't even offer you company. If I want to stop this prophecy from fulfilling itself, I have to make sure that you'll never come in contact with Rome." _

_The small avatar only blinked slowly at her, not understanding what Albion was telling him. Albion exhaled loudly and looked around, deep in thought. She then muttered, "Maybe I could ask them…" She closed her eyes and exhaled quietly, starting to hum softly. Mingled in the hum were strange words from a language that had long been forgotten by the times._

_The small avatar looked at Albion in confusion, trying to understand why she was humming and what these strange words signified. The words sounded outlandish to his ears… England blinked a few times when he saw in the distance small glowing lights. He shook his head and looked closer, only to get the confirmation that these lights were there. _

_The lights got closer and closer, and more numerous. Soon England could make out different colours of glowing light and when those lights came even closer still, the avatar could see that they actually were small humanoid figures surrounded by their individual light._

_The female nation opened her eyes as the strange creatures surrounded her inquisitively and she smiled at them widely, "Thank you for responding to my call, fays."_

_One of the fays nodded, "It sounded pretty important, what's the matter?"_

_Albion nodded her head over to England. The fays turned their attention to the small avatar curiously. A female fay exclaimed happily, "Aww, a newborn avatar. He's adorable!" She approached England and the little avatar, with wide curious eyes, reached out and tried to grab the delicate creature. She expertly avoided his hand with a giggle and instead landed on his head._

_A stern-looking male fay turned to Albion and questioned, "What about him?"_

"_Do you remember that prophecy that Rome is hell-bent on fulfilling in regards to who will inherit these lands?" Albion answered, looking at the fays meaningfully. _

_Some fays looked between each other, and then they looked at England closely. Another male fay blinked slowly and said, "Oh, you mean that prophecy of a blonde child born on these lands who will walk in Rome's footsteps?" _

_Albion grimaced, "Yeah, exactly that prophecy."_

_Another male fay approached England cautiously, staring at the small avatar sceptically. He cocked his head to one side as he commented, "Well, he does have the blonde hair, but are you fairly certain that he is connected to the prophecy?"_

"_Absolutely, I've eliminated about 7 of his predecessors and a new one keeps coming back. They all had blonde hair and the land seems very insistent on the presence of a blonde avatar on these lands. This one is the latest one." Albion nodded, looking at the fays evenly._

"_You won't kill this one, will you?" One of the fays asked worriedly, swooping closer to England who was watching the fays with curious eyes. _

"_After the previous seven? I don't think there is much point if another one will keep coming. I also don't have the heart to kill a young avatar anymore, especially one so young like this one." Albion sighed, looking thoroughly annoyed with herself. _

"_So what will you do with him then?" A fay beside her piped up, settling on her shoulder as she regarded the young avatar with curiosity. _

_Albion looked thoughtful for a moment, brows drawn in concentration. She eventually said uncertainly, "…Well, I can't take him out of the forest, I would just be fulfilling the prophecy because that damn Rome will almost definitely find him and then train him to "walk in his footsteps". But if I leave him here, he'll either try to follow me or he'll eventually get lonely and wander out of the forest."_

"_What would you want us to do about it?" Another fay questioned, hovering in front of Albion slowly as he stared into the avatar's face. _

_Albion coughed awkwardly before making her request. "I was wondering if you could take care of this small avatar and keep him in the forest, keep him hidden from Rome. You don't have to watch over him the whole time, all you need to do is make sure he doesn't wander out of the forest until the last Roman soldier has left these lands and offer him some attention if he cries out of loneliness. Could you do that for me?"_

_The fays looked between each other wordlessly, exchanging silent messages. One of them fluttered nearer to Albion and said, "Albion, I know you have been a faithful friend of the Fay Folk and I think most of us would accept your request without hesitation but I must ask… are you really sure you want to do this. Go against a prophecy?"_

_The female nation nodded firmly, answering, "I have no intention in allowing Rome to corrupt this little lad as he has done to so many others. I am ready to face the consequences of resisting the prophecy."_

"_But you know that the prophecy might strike back at you very violently if it thinks you're an obstacle." Another fay argued helplessly, adding softly, "The prophecy could also kill you…"_

_Albion chuckled lowly as she stared at the fay, "I've survived a prophecy before. When Rome first came and invaded my lands, there was a prophecy that I would die at Rome's hands. Decades have passed and I'm still living. I can take on another prophecy and survive."_

_The mythical creatures looked at Albion quietly for a few moments before some of them nodded. One fay spoke up, "If that is what you wish Albion, we'll do all our best and protect this little one."_

_The Celtic avatar smiled widely as she bent her head towards the fays, thanking them, "Thank you so much, your help is greatly appreciated by me." A few of the fays laughed while others smiled widely at Albion, but a good number of the fays had a sad look in their eyes. Albion didn't give any indication that she saw those sad looks and she looked down at the little avatar who had been watching the entire conversation with uncomprehending eyes. _

_Albion crouched and placed a small kiss on top of his head, whispering softly, "I hope to see you after Rome is gone, hopefully you can shake this damned prophecy off of you. See you later lad." She straightened up and giving a last glance at the fays as they surrounded the smaller avatar, she smiled and ran off, disappearing in the shadows of the forest._

_After a few seconds of silence, a fay turned to look at one of their elders and she questioned tearfully, "The prophecy will kill her, won't it?"_

_The elderly fay shrugged his shoulders helplessly as he replied, "It is a possibility, but it depends on the strength of it."_

"_But she survived another prophecy already, we shouldn't be so worried." Another elder commented, sounding hopeful._

"_That prophecy was not referring to her physical death, it was possibly referring to the death of her freedom. Prophecies are unpredictable that way, one never knows what exactly they mean until it has occurred. We shall see what this prophecy means." A female fay sighed, flitting down to land on England's hand. England raised his hand as he stared closely at the smaller humanoid creature. The female fay stared back at England contemplatively before voicing her thoughts, "Say, does anyone have an idea of what we should call him? We can't possibly keep referring to him as the small lad or as the newborn avatar."_

"_However we can't give it a name that does not belong to him, it is a task of the humans to name him," A male fay said warningly, staring sternly at the other fays._

_Another fay proposed hesitantly after a few seconds, "Well, since this avatar was born on Albion's lands… couldn't we nickname him Albion as well." He shrank back as the others turned to look at him with incredulous eyes._

"_Naming him Albion would be suggesting that he will eventually replace Albion. Do you want to imply that?" A female fay demanded crossly, flying closer to the male fay to glare at him._

_But another female fay agreed, "It wouldn't harm to name him after Albion until his people claim him and give him his real name. Abion's name is almost forgotten by her own people, you've seen what effects Romanization is having on them. There will be a time where she herself will have to accept that her name is Britannia, though she may resent those people who forced that name unto her. But Latin is gradually taking her over." _

_Some of the fays nodded, though a good number had uncertainty etched on their faces. The situation was already more than unusual for them. Avatars were born free and roamed wherever they could go. Albion had basically asked the fays to restrict England's liberty to the forest but he would soon outgrow it and attempt to explore the land further. One could only hope the Romans would be gone by the time this happened. Many fays considered it also not a good sign to give the name of an already existing avatar to another, it could possibly mean the death of the eldest. But it would be an even worse idea to name the young avatar, they ran in the risk of having England bind to them and represent the Fay Folk of the lands._

_That was against the very laws of nature and the fays were unwilling to see the consequences that would follow if they broke it. Avatars belonged to the humans, their very existence depended on them. This would be no different for the newborn avatar in front of them… this young Albion who was going to carry the same name as his elder sister._

_England looked around at the surrounding fays, finding it strange that the word "Albion" was having a resonance within him now, as if it was a part of him. But the current England understood better than the past England. So that was how he had been named Albion? The current England was happy to know that, though he had a sinking feeling that he didn't see much of his elder sister after this, if at all. _

"_A-albee-ohn…," the newborn avatar uttered softly, understanding that this was somehow his name as well as the older female's. He looked up at the stunned fays, grinning proudly at his feat of speaking his first word._

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**A/N**

8D... So, was the chapter to your satisfaction? ^^

Alright, I'll try covering some of the aspects of this chapter shortly:

Yes, there were many countries who executed suicidal people because it was (and sometimes still is) considered a sin against God. Apparently England had a law where anyone suspected of having attempted suicide would be hanged. If I remember correctly, it took a while for them to get rid of the law. I've had that fight so many times with my father because he thinks that anyone who commits suicide deserves to burn in hell. I actually had a fight with him during the Christmas holidays because a very old man whom we knew very well died on the 29th and one year ago, his only son (who was around his 30s or 40s) committed suicide by shooting himself. And my father went on such a rant, saying that those damned souls of people who comitted suicide would have to stand in fron of God and be judged for their sins, because their souls belong to God, not to themselves. In his opinion, they deserve no mercy and should be treated just as badly as the murderers and rapists because they kill themselves. In the end I had to leave in rage because when he starts ranting like that, there is no way to penetrate that THICK skull of his. Oh, you know the most ironic part? Just two days later after that discussion, my father went into a rage just before New Years and started ranting of how we didn't like him and wanted to be rid of him. He actually threatened us by saying he should maybe commit suicide to make our lives easier. That's him, such a hypocrite...

Alright, I've integrated a lot on various avatars/nations and mass suicides. You wanna know more about them, look them up. I spent so much freaking time studying them and thinking on how best to integrate them. Numantia was actually the first event to inspire me to write about the mass suicides. When it happened, a Roman writer wrote quite memorably this: "…such was the love of liberty and of valour which existed in this small barbarian town that many of the Numantians killed themselves. The rest went out on the third day… They appeared pitiable to their enemies, but at the same time there was something fearful in the expression of their eyes - an expression of anger, pain, weariness, and the consciousness of having eaten human flesh." I really liked that quote so I wanted to share that with you guys. :) I think it's really strong.

An explanation on the mention of druids: Druids put a lot of emphasis on memorizing things rather than writing them down (yep, the druids could write contrary to popular belief). However, in Ireland's case, he has maybe too many memories on the Celts. As a protective measure to avoid putting Ireland in a situation where his knowledge of the Celts could be extracted and misused, several of the druids would take up certain chunks of Ireland's memories and keep it in their minds. And they would pass these memories on through their students. When druidism collapsed, the druids took those memories to their graves to Ireland's annoyance. That's why his mind is so foggy when it comes to the ancient Celts and the pre-Celtic people, Ireland can no longer remember Celtic beliefs, Celtic rituals or even how the Celts used their arms when dancing. (because they did, there's no doubt about it) *shrugs* Just a tiny headcanon of mine, the druids held a lot of political power over the people and they were often the reason why many tribes would band together to fight against a common enemy.

An interesting note on Ireland and Prussia, but because it comes from my father, I prefer to doubt it slightly because he might have exaggerated it. Anyway, back when Prussia and England had an alliance, England's king sent Prussia's king a few Irish troops because Prussia had been a bit low on soldiers. The Prussian king was apparently very impressed by the Irish soldiers that he asked the English king to send him more. But the English king told a big fat lie and said he didn't have so many, even though, as we all know, we Irish excel at breeding like rabbits. But the English king didn't like the idea of giving Prussia too many soldiers. To give credit where it's due though, the Irish did make themselves quite legendary for their tempers and often lack of fear in battle. On the whole, Scotland and Ireland are both well known for that.

Prussia totally has that ringtone. Go and find it on youtube. Don't tell me that it doesn't fit him. XD

The crisis hotline idea kind of came out of nowhere but I do think it would be quite helpful to the nations. There is that perspective that they're expected to carry everything on their shoulders and of course that's a bit tiring in the end. They also need a shoulder to cry on or some kind of comfort. While some nations have certainly seeked comfort out in the past, try imagining the number of nations who were too proud to admit that it would get too much sometimes. Argentina is not the only nation lying to himself about not being lonely. There's also that kind of prejudice about nation-region interaction. Countries like America, Switzerland and Germany do have regular contact with their regions but on the other hand, France might only have regular contact with Paris as that would be the only region that really matters. And certainly there's the issue between letting a nation speak to another region from another nation. Usually permission has to be asked. Why? Regions would be seen as something as the children of a nation, it would be like an adult going to someone else's house and starting to talk to one of the children about a serious subject. You'll send the protectiveness of a parent up through the roof. That's why Ireland reacts so strangely that England actually went to talk to Bali, an Indonesian province. Although England did technically ask permission, it's still considered strange that he went to talk with a region who's geographically so distant. There are two regions near England who England would see more often because they're considered Celtic nations and they hang out with Wales. (Cornwall and Brittany) But otherwise, interaction between nations and regions is kind of a testy territory.

The smaller meeting in the next chapter will sort of wrap up the discussion on England's suicide. Though it might be interesting, I just feel that these discussions are the main reason why I get writer's block so often in the first place. It demands too much attention and too much studying. Might focus on England's ex-colonies as well.

You probably noted that Wales is quite stubborn when he wants to be. His stubborness is honestly quite legendary. It should also be noted, I'm not really hating on the UK's government or on Cameron. However, governments do have an effect on nations and the UK government may have slightly contributed to England's state. But I generally don't like any government (well, perhaps I only like the Swiss one) and I know how careless they can be sometimes. (Ireland's government is certainly very careless) On top of that, all that talk about the UK's devolution annoys me slightly. Salmond wants to have the referendum in 2014 as it would be the anniversary of Bannockburn. Cameron wants to make the decision very soon. The majority of the Scottish population want more freedom but don't want to sever the union entirely... like some of them have said, only "the extremists want to yank Scotland out of the union tomorrow". What is very strange though is what one guy who works for the EU has written. If Scotland leaves the UK, he has immediate access to EU. But for some strange reasons, if Scotland does enter the EU, the rest of the UK might leave the EU because of some problems with the law? O_o Dunno, that's what that guy wrote and I honestly didn't really understand his reasoning behind it. But in terms of Hetalia, the devolution of the UK would hit England extremely badly. If Scotland leaves, then Wales and Northern Ireland would leave as there would be the pressure of being free from the union. Then a whole chain reaction will run through Europe where various regions would start demanding their right to leave and become their own country. That's why Spain is against the idea of Scotland leaving, it would encourage Catalonia and other Spanish regions to start yelling for their own independence. *sighs* What has 2012 in store for us?

England finally has something against the dark voice! Oh the joy! But how long will it last? Also, what would you guys say if there was still something else to be discovered about the dark voice? About its possible origin, about what it may have looked like originally? It still is an ego, but I am considering the possibility that it wasn't always an ego and it certainly wasn't always inside England's mind. It would put a spin in the story and it would make for an interesting chapter but it won't really move the plot too much. It would cement something in the plot, but the chapter would be purely for anyone who would be interested in the origin of the dark voice. I would try of course to put some scenes in that would make the plot move forward certainly. Just putting this out there.

You saw what my headcanon is on the birth of avatars. They're born from the earth and though they learn fairly quickly to move around, talking doesn't normally come around until 2 years later. However some defy this rule of course, nothing is set in black and white.

Oh God, this is becoming so long again! But, longer chapter, longer author notes! I don't even know if you guys are still reading this or you have possibly passed out already by this point. XD Alright, I'll simply wrap this up by explaining why Albion stamps on the ground. When you're angry at God, you technically shake your fist towards the sky, right? Not necessarily shake your fist, but when you think of God, you look upwards. As did the Romans and the Greeks. The Celts of course thought that strange because they looked at the ground when they were talking about the gods. This is called "chthonic", gods who are 'dwelling in or beneath the surface of the earth'. It was a very strong belief among the Celts and so its normal that Albion stamped the ground in anger instead of shaking her fist to the sky. Oh yeah, the prophecy isn't that special. XD Back in those days, prophecies were as common as prayers, you can't imagine how many people went to the Oracles to get prophecies. Rome was sort of taking on the job of finding the future nations and having the provinces he conquered care for them, making sure that the new nations would become Romanized. When asking which nation was going to represent the whole island of Britain, Rome got that prophecy telling him that a small blond child born of the lands would walk in his footsteps. Naturally that made Rome want to find that blond child while Albion for a while did everything to eliminate that child. By the time England came around, Albion couldn't kill anymore without feeling extremely guilty.

Okay, to wrap the whole thing up! I'll try to upload the next chapter faster but it will have to be shorter than this. X_x One last request: I'm planning on trying to write a short fanfic for the theme "Introduction" with the Celtic brothers. (only them) I've had a few interested in asking questions so here's your chance. Imagine you bumped into them in RL, what questions would you ask them? (please not too heavy on history, I plan to write historical pieces later on. Concentrate more on personality questions)


	42. Chapter 41

I'm going to be perfectly honest with you guys, I don't like this chapter. The more I read it, the less I like it and frankly, I'm a bit annoyed with it. I had so much stuff to do with university and when I had the time to write, I had the writer's block. So I kept procrastinating and saying I'll do it later... and later... and later... overall, I'm sorry it took so long and I apologise that it is so short. Maybe if I was less irritated, I could say that I sort of like some parts of it but right now, I can't. I'm just too annoyed. The only thing people can't claim is that I did a sloppy job. I've tried my best, even if some parts bored me so much. When you're doing so much analysing in your university with the essays, would you still have the patience to write up a whole scene based on analysing something in your free time? Apparently I couldn't for this chapter. It's packed with history and I've been juggling with a variety of characters that are canon but are very often forgotten. I even tried writing some non-official Commonwealth nations. Don't ever let me do that again, it was tedious! Leave me with the Celtic nations, that's my area of expertise. I will already apologise in advance if I wrote some of the characters to be jerkier than normal. But I needed some jerks as well because there are always going to be people who are in a bad mood and they'll take it out on anyone near them. Sorry, I'll cut my rant short. To summarize: I'm not happy with this chapter but I still hope you guys will enjoy it and it will leave you wanting to read the next chapter. (which I will try to enjoy writing more)

Ah yes, I also need to address a special mention to the user **CherryYume** because I think they deserve to be praised. Exactly a week ago, CherryYume wrote to me telling me about another author who had plagiarised an early chapter of mine for their own story. I went to that author's story, confirmed how much work had been plagiarised and then I PMed the author asking the chapter to be changed. Thankfully the author apologised and edited their chapter so that it was entirely their own work. I sincerely thank CherryYume for telling me about it because I wouldn't have found it myself. The author whose name I shall not reveal also deserves some praise for acting maturely when I wrote to them and doing the right thing. I can only hope that this author will not be tempted to do it again and they'll rely only on their strengths from now on.

That's all I wanted to say. Onwards to the chapter and I hope you guys enjoy it despite my own disdain towards it! (maybe I'm being too harsh but I'm not in the best of moods today)

* * *

Chapter 41

The very next morning, Ireland woke up to find that he had not one, but two brothers sharing the same bed with him. One could wonder why Ireland had even bothered to rent a hotel room with two beds if they were going to use just one of them. At least the cover hadn't been claimed by Scotland again.

Ireland looked at his two brothers silently and then he tried to slip out of bed very slowly, taking care not to wake up either of the two nations. He needn't have bothered of course. Ireland caught sight of England's sleepy eyes staring back at him and the Irish nation sighed and stopped trying to sneak out of bed. It seemed like England had already woken up anyway.

Both island nations stared at each other quietly for a couple of seconds before Ireland smiled and said, "Good morning Sasana."

England blinked and then he yawned widely. "'Morning," England mumbled in a quiet tone. After considering it for a moment, he asked abruptly "Ireland… did you know Albion?"

The Irish nation was slightly taken aback by the sudden question, having never expected England of all people to ask him about Albion. How in the world did England even know about Albion? England had been very young when Albion had died… Ireland doubted that England had ever met her. So where was this question coming from?

"Of course I know her, she was my sister. I knew her from the very beginning, I practically grew up with her," Ireland replied hesitantly, looking at England carefully.

"What… happened to her?" England questioned cautiously, his eyes becoming more alert as he awaited Ireland's answer. He saw Ireland's eyes widen briefly and he knew that something had happened to her, and it wasn't anything good. There was no other explanation why England had next to no memories about her.

Ireland looked undecided for a moment, clearly not at ease with England's question. He seemed to consider his question for a minute or two before he sighed, "She died many centuries ago."

"…How?" Came the timid question from England.

The Irish nation blinked in surprise at the question, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration as he tried to remember. Eventually he shrugged helplessly, "Sorry Sasana, I don't know what happened to her exactly. My memories are blurry and confusing during that period where she fell."

England frowned but he seemed to accept the answer. After a moment of silence, England questioned curiously, "Do you think Scotland knows what happened to Albion?"

"…No…" Scotland answered sleepily. Both Ireland and England shifted their attention to Scotland who was on the other side of the bed. England turned his head to look at the Scot who had his eyes half-opened, asking in an astonished voice, "When did you wake up? I thought you were still asleep."

Scotland blinked his eyes blearily as he tried to get rid of his sleepiness. He yawned widely before he chuckled, "Not long, I was half-asleep but I heard what you two were talking about. I wouldn't know more than Ireland. At that time, I was hanging around him more than with anyone else."

"Ah…" England responded, looking at loss.

"Why do you want to know what happened to Albion?" Ireland questioned inquisitively, rising from the bed first and stretching out his arms until his joints gave a satisfying crack. He turned around to look at England expectantly, awaiting his answer.

England sat up on the bed as he considered how he should answer the question. He replied, "I saw her in one of my earliest memories and I was wondering why I didn't see her in any of my later memories. She was really nice."

"A bit too nice for the times we lived in back then, Pictland and I never gave her any break about being too much of a softie…," Ireland laughed awkwardly, before hastily switching to another subject, "So, I'll assume then that you didn't have a bad nightmare, right? That stupid dark voice left you alone?"

The Brit smiled widely as he answered, "It did attack me again, but I now have a way to keep it back from me thanks to Scotland. It can't drag me into negative memories again, it can't even come near me."

Ireland looked very surprised and pleased by the answer, but then he looked at Scotland in confusion and he asked, "How did you find a way to fight that dark voice off?"

Scotland stood up from the bed and turned around to face Ireland. Scotland looked quite uneasy but he quickly attempted to shrug it off. He grinned apprehensively as he said, "Oh, I just got the idea that England should try to use his positive memories to drive his ego back, seeing as it seemed to feed itself on negative memories more. It was a long shot but I'm glad he managed to prove my theory correct."

"Yeah, it is good I suppose…" Ireland murmured, looking at the Scot suspiciously. Scotland noticed the suspicion in his brother's eyes and seemed to get even more anxious.

The Scot brightly proposed, "So, am I the only one who's hungry? I'll go check what they have for breakfast downstairs, I'm absolutely starved!" Without waiting for an answer, Scotland hastily walked out of the hotel room and closed the door behind him quickly.

Ireland stared after Scotland mutely, clearly aware that Scotland was trying to hide something from the Irish nation. Ireland muttered in confusion, "He just left the hotel room without changing… at all."

"Maybe he was just very hungry," England proposed hesitantly, feeling a bit bad for having accidently put Scotland in such a difficult situation. "Anyway, he just slept in a t-shirt and sweat pants… there's nothing really bad in wearing those in public."

"Well… he could have left in a worse outfit but I'm not sure how the hotel personnel will react to him when he reaches the lobby…" Ireland muttered, mostly to himself. He looked at England doubtfully for a moment before deciding to leave the subject be. He sighed and turned around to start searching for his suit. The Irish nation added, "Anyway, I think we both should get prepared for the meeting, we have about half an hour left. Corn na Breataine should be arriving soon if Breatain Beag didn't change his mind, which I highly doubt he did."

"Is Wales that stubborn?" England questioned in surprise, hopping down from the bed and searching for some fresh clothes to change in as well. He looked up at Ireland just as his brother took the top of his pajama off and England had to quickly avert his gaze as he caught sight of the scars. England didn't like seeing scars at all, it always made him wonder where they came from and he usually got a sinking feeling about some of them.

Ireland laughed loudly as he put on his shirt. "While you, Alba and I are really famous for our temper, Wales is famous for his stubbornness. He's always been like that since I've known him, very few people have ever managed to change his mind over something."

"Really?" England couldn't help but feel slightly amused, though he was confused why exactly Wales refused to come to the meeting. Was he somehow afraid of the meeting? England tried quelling his feelings of guilt, a part of him suspected that it had something to do with him…

"You ready yet?" Ireland asked suddenly. England jerked out of his thoughts and looked up at Ireland, who was almost finished changing. He was tying his necktie and ensuring that it wouldn't be on too tight.

"Almost…" England mumbled quietly, looking around for a missing sock. Both nations looked up when they heard someone knock hurriedly on the door. Ireland went over to the door and opened it.

Standing in front of him was Cornwall and Northern Ireland. Cornwall, previously seeming very apprehensive, smiled widely when he saw Ireland. He sighed heavily, "Thank God, we're right this time."

"Why, did you knock on the wrong room before?" Ireland asked jokingly.

Cornwall coughed awkwardly, "We went to the wrong hotel entirely … I'm still not sure where we went wrong but I won't be taking directions from a tourist guide again anytime soon. We only found this hotel because we saw Scotland wandering about in the lobby."

"Why did Scotland look like he had just rolled out of bed anyway?" Northern Ireland questioned suspiciously, looking at Ireland briefly before breaking eye-contact when Ireland narrowed his eyes at the younger brother.

Ireland shrugged after a moment and replied, "Because he just did… apparently he was absolutely starving so he left the room in that state."

Northern Ireland frowned slightly, finding the explanation strange and unusual. But he seemed to decide not to push the subject and looked past Ireland into the room curiously. When he spotted England, the younger nation smiled and greeted, "Hey England."

"Ah yes, hello England!" Cornwall greeted as well, looking at England with a friendly smile.

England nodded at them with a smile as he pulled on his t-shirt. Ireland turned around and asked him, "Are you ready now?" England didn't miss the look of irritation in Ireland's eyes, it seemed like Northern Ireland's presence had already put him in a foul mood. England nodded as he walked towards the group of nation. Ireland turned his attention to Cornwall and said, "Alright, so let's go look for Alba and get him to change into more… suitable clothes and then I suppose we can all go and get some breakfast before the meeting."

"Sounds like a plan." Cornwall agreed with a laugh.

* * *

"Alright, thanks for coming here instead of the normal meeting," Australia began enthusiastically, before stopping briefly and looking around at the gathered nations. He added hesitantly, "Err, there seems to be more nations here than I expected…"

Germany walked into the meeting room and looked sternly at the nations. He frowned at some of them and he ordered, "Some of you should come back with me, this is specific meeting that does not concern you."

"But this meeting, like, seems so much more interesting than the other meeting." Poland pointed out, smiling innocently as Germany shot him a glare. Some of the nations who had attempted to sneak into the smaller meeting all nodded in agreement.

Canada frowned disapprovingly, "This meeting is not for gossip, it's to discover the origin of England's depression."

"Well, we want to know where it came from too," Romania replied insistently, grinning toothily at the Canadian nation. "Besides, America is also here despite not being part of the Commonwealth like the other nations."

Ireland coughed awkwardly as he answered, "I'm not part of the Commonwealth either anymore but that's not the point of the meeting. This meeting is for the nations who have lived or still live with Sasana. Care to consider whether you are one of the two options I just mentioned?"

The intruding nations looked between each other, their expressions stating the obvious answer. Poland sighed and he acquiesced, "Fine then, we'll, like, go back to the other meeting. But one of you guys, like, will have to tell us how it goes, yeah?"

"If you guys don't mess around in the other meeting, perhaps." New Zealand spoke up, smiling slyly but he was quick to mask it as the other nations turned around to look at him. Germany looked at New Zealand with a raised eyebrow before he turned and walked out of the meeting room, followed by the handful of nations who were meant to be in the larger meeting.

"I do wonder if Prussia will come and crash the meeting." A nation wondered out loud outside of the meeting room.

The nations inside the meeting distinctly heard Germany growl, "Not this time, he's locked up in my room and handcuffed to the bed. He won't be going anywhere."

After a moment of silence, Australia turned to look in surprise at his Oceanian brother and he questioned, "Are you serious about that promise little brother?"

"Stop calling me little," New Zealand countered, before he answered, "And yes, anything that might make them work seriously during the meeting is good in my books. Doesn't anyone else want Germany to be in a good mood for once? I personally find him frightening when he's in a bad mood…"

"Well then, we might as well get this meeting started." India proposed, looking around at the other nations to see if they were all ready. Some of them nodded in silent agreement and Australia stood up to face the others.

"Alright, so I once again thank you for all coming here, I think everyone we asked came along." Australia beamed widely, obviously pleased by that.

New Zealand was looking around when he suddenly noted, "No, not everyone…" Australia looked at New Zealand in confusion before looking around more closely and then he noticed the difference as well.

"Cornwall?" Australia sounded surprised. "What're you doing here? Where's Wales?"

The Cornish avatar smiled ruefully as he answered, "Wales apologises for not being able to make it, he says that there was a very important meeting that he couldn't miss so he sent me in his place."

"But… you're a county, aren't you?" India questioned, looking at Cornwall doubtfully. Cornwall shifted uneasily as he nodded.

"It doesn't really matter though, as long as you can contribute to the discussion, you're good." Australia smiled at Cornwall and then he turned to the others, saying, "Alright, so let's begin with the meeting. Does anyone have a question to start the discussion off?"

"Umm… I have one," Seychelles admitted, "We all know that England was usually a grumpy nation but how come none of us noticed when things took a turn for the worst? I know from the last meeting that there would have been many things contributing to England's suicidal thoughts but some of us have lived with him long enough to notice slight changes. Why weren't those slight changes obvious enough?"

"I think the big problem here is that England's grumpiness was pretty cyclic," Canada said thoughtfully, "So for many of us, we came to be used to having him being so grumpy. Most likely his grumpiness masked how bad his depressions were."

"Then the question should be how long has England been depressed…" New Zealand murmured, scratching his head in thought.

"That won't be very easy to answer, seeing as England went into depression many times since the beginning of this millennium." Scotland responded uneasily, shifting in his chair slightly.

Cornwall nodded, "England has had many ups and downs in the last few years."

"How bad was he before 2000?" South Africa asked Cornwall curiously.

"Definitely not as often." Northern Ireland replied automatically, looking quickly down at his laps when the African nation turned to look at the Irish nation inquisitively.

"We should also consider the effect that the worldwide economic recession had on him, England wasn't left unscathed by it." Cameroon contributed as well.

"I think we can all agree that it hit many of us pretty badly." Singapore pointed out.

"You don't say…" Ireland sighed, crossing his arms. For many nations, the troubles with recession were still not over. Ireland wished he didn't have to consider himself as one of those nations.

"However if England was already depressed by that point, the recession could have worsened things for him." Malta countered.

England stared around at the gathering of nations, trying to remind himself who was who. Ireland and Cornwall had briefly explained to him that many of the Commonwealth nations had once been his colonies and they all had lived with him at some point. So they were nations who had a pretty good knowledge of how he ticked. Ireland had sheepishly added that he had left the Commonwealth back in 1949 because his government had been following a policy to rely less on the UK.

"Okay but what reasons would he have to be so depressed in the first place?" England heard a nation question, yet another nation England unfortunately could not identify. She was probably an African nation judging by her skin colour but that did not help him much since there was more than a couple of African nations in this meeting.

….England should really be paying more attention to the meeting. At the very least he wasn't technically the centre of attention all the time. They were talking about him, yes, but they weren't specifically focussing on the current England. Thinking like that made it less awkward for England to listen to the conversation.

"Besides the obvious one?" Pakistan snorted loudly.

America tensed up at that and he cast an annoyed glance at the Pakistani. Some of the nations shifted uncomfortably and England wondered what in the world had he missed. Pakistan seemed to be referring to something that was obscure to England but the other nations understood what he meant. But before England could think the words over and question them, Cameroon spoke up again.

"The main gist of yesterday's meeting was to show that there were many contributing factors. There are other reasons that have played an important part in England's depression." Cameroon said coolly.

"We might as well question why his depressions got more common after the beginning of this millennium." Bangladesh pointed out.

"So what happened before or during 2000?" India wondered out loud, looking at Ireland and Scotland in particular.

Ireland looked uncertain as he answered, "Off the bat? I honestly can't say, I wasn't keeping tabs on Sasana during that time and many things did happen during that period. Finding the thing that would have set Sasana's depression off won't be easy."

"I'm not sure either what could have happened during that time that would have depressed him," Scotland admitted ruefully, "England was never the type to confide his troubles to anyone, considering his philosophy in his "stiff upper lip" and all."

"Alright, so let's go to the very beginning of these cyclic depressions. When exactly did they start?" Australia questioned, his eyes alight with determination.

"After the American Revolution?" Tanzania proposed hesitantly.

Canada frowned at that answer and he shook his head, "No, he didn't go into cyclic depressions that far back. That's a very long period, England would have certainly attempted suicide sooner if his depressions had started back then."

Cornwall agreed, "England had really bad mood swings and he was generally unapproachable following the months after America's gain of independence, but if his depressions had already started then, we would have seen his Empire decline. But instead the British Empire expanded and strengthened."

"That's it, his Empire!" New Zealand exclaimed loudly.

"What about it?" Kenya asked with a raised eyebrow.

"When the process of decolonization started… when many of us left him in 1947… he tried hiding it but it was obvious that he wasn't happy about letting us go," India commented thoughtfully, her brows furrowing.

"I think the decolonization ended when Hong Kong left to return to China's house in 1997. Many people say the British Empire officially ended on that date," Jamaica added, looking at Hong Kong for confirmation.

Hong Kong nodded, "Yes, though England did try to keep me and he talked with China about it but the idea was rejected by my brother. He really was unhappy when I left."

England frowned and finally he felt like he had to ask, "But why was I so… crazy about colonies? Why was I so attached and why was I so unhappy when you all became independent from me?"

"Actually a lot of the European empires were crazy about colonies … maybe you just had a "thing" for young colonies," Rwanda joked, a slight hint of a derisive tone in his voice. Some of the nations turned to look at Rwanda disapprovingly but none seemed to have the desire to openly call the African nation out for his comment. The Rwandan leant back in his chair and crossed his arms as he stared challengingly at the disapproving glances.

India shook her head, "It wasn't anything like that…"

"But there is something we shouldn't ignore though," Tonga said quickly, "England was nicer to the younger colonies."

"Well Sasana wouldn't have given me the same treatment he was giving to America and Canada when they were younger," Ireland laughed awkwardly.

"But why does it matter how he treated the younger colonies?" Singapore questioned, looking confused.

"It gives us a hint about why he was the unhappiest when those colonies left him?" Bangladesh proposed uncertainly, shrugging his shoulders.

America became thoughtful and he added, "I don't think he liked it at all when we even started growing bigger. I remember when I became taller than him and at first he looked surprised but soon I had the feeling he didn't like it at all."

"So… England would have preferred if some of us had stayed stuck in the form of children? But why?" South Africa asked curiously.

"Well we weren't so independent of him and…," Australia trailed off as he searched for the words.

"…We made him feel needed?" New Zealand finished for him, staring at the Australian who nodded in agreement.

After a moment, Canada suddenly noted, "Its self-projection."

This caused a few nations to turn towards the Canadian and give him quizzical stares. Scotland asked, "Self… what? What's that?"

"It's the reason why England didn't like seeing any of us grow up and outgrow his care. The reason he tried so hard to be affectionate and protective of us was because he was seeing himself in us." Canada explained, turning to look at England.

"You mean something like giving the younger colonies the childhood he never had?" Singapore questioned, sounding quite surprised by Canada's explanation and the fact that it strangely made sense to her.

"Where do you get all that psychological stuff from?" Malta looked at Canada curiously.

"From a book I read a few months ago, it has greatly helped me understand some of the more obscure things that were going through England's mind." Canada replied, smiling at the Maltese nation.

"But what connection does this have to our current situation and question?" India inquired, cocking her head to one side as she tried understanding the relevance of what Canada had said about "self-projection".

"A lot actually," Canada answered, elaborating, "If England was prone to self-projecting himself on the younger colonies and he would have done everything to give them a better childhood, it would mean that England would have gotten quite attached to some of us. So as one by one we started leaving and becoming independent, England held on tightly to those who remained. Do you remember how vicious he was when Argentina invaded the Falklands and claimed that the Falkland Islands belonged to her? We know that England wanted to feel needed and he hated loneliness. What happened before 2000 that might have put England into depression?"

Scotland suddenly exclaimed, "Of course, the Good Friday Agreement! How come I didn't think of that?"

"You think that depressed him?" Ireland demanded, sounding quite conflicted at the mention of that particular agreement.

"Before that, Northern Ireland had been quite dependant of England-" Scotland started explaining before he was cut off by the younger UK nation.

"No I wasn't!" Northern Ireland protested as he became slightly red in the face.

"Emotionally yes, the IRA, the UVF and the others were driving you mad with fear back then." Scotland shot back at Northern Ireland who could only bite his lower lip and look downwards. Scotland returned to look at the other nations as he continued, "Northern Ireland was quite possibly the last nation England cared and protected as he had done with the younger colonies. When the Good Friday Agreement came into force on the 2nd December 1999, it ended the Troubles that Northern Ireland had suffered from so much. Of course that's good for North, but for England is may have meant that he had lost the last nation who needed his comfort and would from then on become more independent from him like everyone else."

"So England's depressions were mainly based on the fact that he was lonely and he didn't feel needed by the others anymore?" Tanzania questioned uncertainly.

"It sounds very oversimplified like that but it does get the message across." New Zealand agreed.

"Wait, so you guys mean I should have stayed clingy and needy for England's sake?" Northern Ireland demanded loudly, turning to look at Scotland and Ireland accusingly.

Scotland quickly shook his head as he told Northern Ireland, "Of course not, you have no reason to feel guilty about this."

"Though it may have been a good idea to give England a cat or something so that he could have been… you know, weaned off his need to take care of someone." Tonga proposed, adding as an afterthought, "He may have lost his Empire too quickly, he was perhaps not given enough time to get used to the fact that he was no longer an empire."

"I don't think continuing to feed his need would have helped him in the long run…" Ireland sighed quietly.

"That's why I said wean him off, I wasn't proposing that we should have found another small colony for him." Tonga shot back, sounding a bit miffed.

"I think though that we should have confronted him about it instead. I'm almost sure that England was not aware that he was… umm, self-projecting, or whatever Canada said, on us." America commented, still trying to get used to the idea that Canada had proposed. America had never considered the fact that England might have seen himself in America and offered him just about everything because England himself had been denied that when he was younger.

"But if after all these years of caring for numerous colonies did nothing to quench this need of his to care for the others and avoid loneliness… then what originally started this had not been resolved." South Africa noted, trying her best not to let her gaze stray towards England's brothers.

The brothers in question still noticed what she meant and Ireland rolled his eyes as he sighed, "We know we're the original cause, no need to sound so vague about it Afraic Theas."

Scotland added wearily, "Does it look like that he would have opened himself up to us and told us what was bothering him?"

"Clearly not, though neither of you gave him such an option exactly." Cornwall muttered quietly, earning himself two stares of disbelief from the two other Celtic nations. He shrugged to show his apology but it was the truth anyway.

"But why did it hit England so hard? The other empires weren't any less attached to their colonies, some were equally as affectionate as England towards their own colonies." Seychelles pointed out with a quizzical expression.

"I think the large difference is that the others are on the continent and so were surrounded by other friendly nations while England is pretty well isolated, I imagine he argued more than anything else with his brothers." Canada answered, looking over to England. The small Brit was looking around, seeming at loss what to say. It certainly couldn't be easy for him to relate with his past self, hearing from everyone the type of nation he had been just a few months ago. It wasn't as horrible as when he had been an empire, but it still wasn't very positive.

"But was England still depressed about that Good Friday Agreement when he decided to… commit suicide?" America asked hesitantly, knowing that this was the question everyone wanted an answer to: what set off the depression that would lead England to seek a way out? Was the depression from way back then?

Ireland snorted, "Not likely, that's too long for a depression. This happened over a decade ago. Something else caused Sasana to become depressed."

"Well, there has been a lot of talk about the devolution of the UK recently… was that maybe it?" Cameroon suggested cautiously.

Some of the nations murmured in agreement, those that paid attention to what was going on in the world had noticed that there had been a lot of talk about UK's devolution recently. Australia turned to Scotland and he asked curiously, "There's been a lot of talk especially from your side, there are some of your people who want to leave the union completely, right?"

Scotland shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he answered, "Yes, there are some people who are proposing that but my people are quite split over the issue. Some want to leave completely, others want just a bit more of independence and then we have other people who don't want anything to change at all."

"How was England when those discussions were going on between your governments?" India inquired, highly interested in Scotland's answer.

The Scot exhaled deeply as he replied, "I'm not too sure, he was pretty closed during those meetings and he didn't say anything to me. He almost didn't seem to care." Scotland turned to look at Cornwall and Ireland, questioning uneasily, "Do you guys think this might have actually affected him to the point of depressing him? I mean, his people want me out of the union more than my own."

Cornwall shrugged helplessly, "It might have, if England already assumed that you were going to leave soon anyway and then Wales might follow suit, the assumption might have depressed him. He isn't trying to keep anyone back if they don't want to stay anymore but in trying to drive everyone away and isolating himself, he's just depressing himself more."

"So basically the whole mess could have been avoided if you guys talked more to him." Pakistan concluded darkly.

Ireland looked quite affronted by that accusation and he sarcastically replied, "Sure, because if we had talked to him, he would have put the suicide off a few more years and then he would have been depressed by something else. And he would have still tried to kill himself."

"Well you guys are his brothers, being on better terms and getting along with him may have helped England a lot more than all that arguing you seem to enjoy so much." Pakistan snapped back.

"Ironic, we're being told to get along better with England by the nation who himself doesn't get along any better with his own siblings." Scotland noted darkly, crossing his arms as he glowered at Pakistan.

"Shut your mouth for once." India hissed at her brother. Pakistan only rolled his eyes in response.

"It wouldn't have killed you, or anyone else for that matter, to pay him a simple and friendly visit now and again either. Did independence just give you all a ticket telling you to sever all links to Sasana and then never visit him? Just slap a big "feck off" note in his face?" Ireland growled furiously.

"Hey, leave us out of this fight!" India protested loudly, turning to glare at the fuming Irish nation.

"Some of us did continue visiting England when we could!" America argued, looking just as irritated.

"It isn't easy for those who live on the other side of the world to simply visit him and say hey." Australia huffed in annoyance, New Zealand and some other nations nodding stiffly in agreement.

Angry and insulted voices continued to rise as the nations began quarrelling loudly. Suddenly Northern Ireland jumped to his feet and he yelled at the top of his lungs, "EVERYONE JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!"

The nations fell immediately quiet and everyone turned to stare at Northern Ireland in stunned silence. For many of the nations, this was the first time they saw Northern Ireland this upset. For his brothers, it was one of the very rare times that their youngest got so vocal about something that was bothering him.

Northern Ireland looked at the other nations, his blue eyes blazing with rage. He ground out after a moment, "This is why everything is so messed up. This is why bad things happen. We do nothing but throw accusations around and fight. What difference will our fighting make? Why can just a tiny pebble rolling down the hill bring the whole mountain crashing after it? How are we supposed to help England when we can't even help ourselves?"

These words seemed strange coming from a nation who had known nothing but violence since his early existence. But perhaps in a twisted sense, it was expected that Northern Ireland would have the best understanding of this. He had seen his brothers quarrel often enough.

"If… i-if you could please excuse me for a moment?" Came a nervous voice. There was a slight shift in attention of the nations and everyone focussed on England who had uttered those words.

England was staring at the other nations with a pale face and wide eyes. He shakily hopped down from his chair and made his way out of the meeting, opening and closing the door quickly after him.

The younger Irish nation sighed in defeat and he sat down on his chair again. He stared at the nations with miserable eyes but he didn't say a single word. The look alone was enough to tell the others what he thought.

Canada inhaled slowly as he spoke quietly, "We're certainly not helping England with our fighting, I think we just managed to frighten him with how quickly things can deteriorate into a fight."

"Alright, I'm sorry." Ireland blurted out suddenly, looking at no one in particular. "I didn't want to insult any of you, I just didn't want Alba, Corn na Breataine and me being accused of having allowed Sasana to kill himself. We're not to blame."

"No one's to blame," South Africa declared, looking around at all the other nations. She added, "No one should be held responsible for England's suicide attempt. It's not fair on anyone."

"But shouldn't someone be held accountable?" Kenya questioned hesitantly.

"Other than England who no longer has his memories? Who else do you want to hold accountable?" Malta pointed out, cocking her head to one side. Kenya thought about it for a moment before shrugging helplessly, not knowing how to answer the question.

India turned to Pakistan and said, "Clearly you're still upset about what England's boss said about your people… why don't you finally go talk to England about it?"

"England won't remember, he doesn't have his memories anymore if you've forgotten." Pakistan sneered back, obviously in a bad mood. He added, "Besides, it's his boss who said it. Not him."

"But telling England what happened and saying how you feel about it might help you out." Bangladesh proposed, frowning slightly at his brother. Pakistan rolled his eyes and he huffed silently, looking the other way.

America was looking at Pakistan, still a bit annoyed by Pakistan's comment that England's love for the American was the main reason he became suicidal. He didn't need to have all the nations underline it to America that he might have been able to stop England on that day, had he been less oblivious. But America didn't exactly feel like starting a new fight again, Pakistan seemed to be very irate lately.

He caught Canada staring at him and America commented, "So, I might as well go and see where England went off to, right?

"I can come with you." Cornwall proposed, having appeared beside the two North American nations. America looked up at the Cornish avatar in surprise but then he nodded, thinking it would facilitate the search for England.

Canada looked at the nation and the county silently for a moment before saying, "Alright, I'll try to reorganise the meeting with Australia and New Zealand, hopefully an argument won't break out again."

"Maybe it needed to break out, but now it's finally out of the way." America suggested as he looked at the Canadian, shrugging his shoulders as an afterthought. The American then stood up and made his way out of the meeting, followed by Cornwall.

Once they were out of the meeting, America turned his head to look up and down the hallway. He turned his attention back to Cornwall and told him, "Alright, I'll go left and you'll go right. England wouldn't have gone so far but check any room you pass by as well. If you find him, come back here with him.

"Will do." Cornwall replied with a nod, turning right to walk down the hall as America turned left to go in the other direction. Hopefully England hadn't been too shaken by the argument that had seemed to spring out of nowhere in the meeting. When Cornwall turned around the corner and was sure he was far enough from America, the English county sighed wearily, "Now I know why Wales sent me here instead of going himself…"

* * *

England exhaled deeply as he looked at himself in the mirror of the bathroom. The mirror was a bit high but the Brit was happy to find that he could stand on his toes and see himself well enough. He didn't have to climb on the sink anymore. Sometimes he was growing so slowly that England would forget that he was meant to be a lot taller than this. He had gotten almost used to his larger surroundings.

He looked decidedly less pale after splashing some water on his face. The fight in the meeting had really caught him off guard and it had truly shocked him to hear the violence in some of the nations' voices. It seemed like some of them really wanted to find someone to blame for the whole mess… and apparently his brothers had prepared themselves to be accused and were ready to defend themselves. Was that the reason why Wales refused to come? Had he somehow suspected that this would happen?

The door of the bathroom creaked open and England turned around to see who it was. It turned out to be Cornwall, who looked immediately relieved when he saw England. Cornwall smiled kindly and said, "I'm glad I found you, America and I were beginning to wonder where you were."

"Are they still… fighting in the meeting?" England questioned hesitantly, he knew that the fighting had been broken up by Northern Ireland but the argument could have easily resumed when he left the meeting.

To his relief though, Cornwall shook his head. The Cornish avatar confirmed, "No, they've quietened down and I don't think another fighting will break out anytime soon. It is strange though that it was Northern Ireland who broke the fighting up, I know that he isn't comfortable being the centre of attention."

"I was surprised as well…" England agreed, trailing off as he turned to look back in the mirror.

"Are…are you okay?" Cornwall asked curiously, approaching the smaller avatar slowly to stand beside him. "I hope you weren't too scared by the fighting."

"I'm not sure, I guess I never expected a fight to break out so easily… I don't want the others to fight over something that can't be changed anymore." England sighed sadly as he turned to gaze at Cornwall.

Cornwall bit his lower lip uncertainly and he patted England comfortingly on the shoulder. He reassured, "Don't worry England, they will eventually get it. Do you want to come back to the meeting?"

"I suppose I should." England murmured softly, turning to leave the bathroom with Cornwall, closing the door quietly after them. They walked down the hall in silence for a few minutes, both avatars deep in their thoughts. After a moment, England looked up at Cornwall with curious eyes. He had just realized that with Cornwall being a close brother of Wales, wouldn't that mean he was around when Albion was still alive?

Following that logic, Cornwall would naturally know more of Albion's fate, yes? England didn't really know why he wanted to know, but the fact that neither Ireland nor Scotland managed to give him a straight answer made the small Brit more determined to find out what happened to Albion. He was curious about her fate. He had carried for some time the same name as her. This made him feel a link between him and Albion. Was it so wrong that he wanted to know?

After a moment of hesitation, England finally asked, "Hey Cornwall, you knew Albion, right?"

The Cornish avatar turned to look at England in surprise and confusion, briefly considering which Albion England was referring to. He then nodded uncertainly, "You mean the elder Albion, my sister?"

England nodded briefly, both avatars continuing to walk back towards the meeting. Cornwall replied slowly after a pause, "Yeah, I knew her very well. She was a good older sister, she helped Wales, Brittany and I quite a lot when the other avatars were just chasing and shoving us around. Why do you ask?"

"…Do you know how she… died?" England asked cautiously, hoping that Cornwall would be able to give him a clearer answer. It was evident that Cornwall would have been closer to Albion, he had to know what her ultimate fate had been.

Cornwall stopped in his tracks and his head turned to look at England with shocked eyes. He furrowed his eyebrows and Cornwall broke eye-contact with England, seeming uneasy and thoughtful at the same time. After hesitating for a moment, Cornwall simply shrugged his shoulders as he answered, "I don't know."

England's anger flared up slightly, how could even Cornwall not know what had happened to his sister? He countered, "How can you not know?"

"I wasn't there when she died," Cornwall replied simply as he slowly started walking again. England frowned as he trotted after his county, looking at Cornwall's expression to gauge how he was feeling. Cornwall's eyes looked very conflicted, as if he was at loss at what to say. Somehow England felt that Cornwall wasn't entirely truthful about his knowledge of Albion's fate.

"That's no reason not to know how she died. Surely you heard it from someone when you found out that she was gone." England huffed loudly, annoyed that Cornwall was avoiding his gaze now.

The county paused in mid-step, his eyes flicking in England's direction, and then he continued walking. He declared, "I don't know, I don't remember, I don't want to remember… I can't remember."

"There is a difference between not remembering and not wanting to remember. Which is it?" England demanded in exasperation.

"I don't know!" Cornwall exclaimed, looking down at England with a mixture of agitation and annoyance. Cornwall sighed as he continued, "I don't remember and I don't see why it concerns you so much. You were very young when she died, I bet you never even met her. Why does it matter to you how she died? She's been dead for centuries and you've never shown any interest in knowing what happened to her before."

"I want to know now. I didn't remember it, but I did meet her when I was younger. I want to know what happened to her." England replied softly, looking down at his feet.

Cornwall regarded England silently for a few seconds before he said, "I'm really sorry England, but I can't help you there. My memories of the time where she died is-"

"-blurry and confusing, I know. I got the same response from Ireland and Scotland." England interjected, pouting slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

The county smiled eagerly and he said, "See?"

But England shook his head and he pointed out, "Yeah, but they only said that they can't remember. You said you don't want to remember. Which means you knew it once but now you're repressing it!"

"Ach, don't start again! It was only a slip of tongue, I also can't remember anything," Cornwall protested exasperatedly.

The Brit frowned at that and he muttered slowly, "Your "slip of tongue" is more truthful than any other answer you've given me."

"Stop it." Cornwall requested simply, appearing to be nearing his limit of patience.

"Someone has to know!" England argued loudly, unable to understand why it was so difficult to get a straight answer from the Cornish avatar. Why was Albion's fate so horrible that no one could willingly remember what had happened to her? This confused England beyond measure.

"Well I don't!" Cornwall snapped suddenly, looking at England with cold, hard eyes. England stopped walking and took a step back. He would have assumed that he had enraged his county if it weren't for that fact that Cornwall's voice had deepened. England had caused Cornwall's other personality to surface, there was no doubting that with the way Cornwall was glaring at him now.

Cornwall turned around to face England and the county growled angrily, "Stop looking for answers. Don't give that thing in you the chance to make you hate yourself more or convince you of our supposed "hatred" or "contempt" of you. There is a reason why I chose to forget. The same reason that both Wales and Brittany refuse to remember. Ireland and Scotland also knew, but they've pushed those memories to the back of their minds. Something horrible happened a long time ago. I no longer know what, but something did happen."

"But what-" England began uneasily, feeling slightly intimidated by Cornwall's darker personality. But he was viciously cut off by his county.

"And you! You in there!" Cornwall barked, taking a few menacing steps closer to England and glaring not directly at England, but at something deeper within England's eyes. "I know you're in there, listening and trying to twist everything to torture England. I may not like England, but I know he doesn't deserve to have every single bad action of his rubbed in. So stop it and leave the damn Brit alone!" The Cornish avatar took a step closer and he grasped England's chin, not giving England any option to look away from Cornwall's eyes. Cornwall continued furiously, "Leave him be, you monster. Go away, fade away from your miserable existence. You don't deserve to even exist. Stop torturing everyone and go away!"

Just then America came around the corner and he froze on his spot as he took in the scene before him: A threatening Cornwall backing England into the wall. America narrowed his eyes and he snarled protectively, "Get away from England!"

Cornwall only had the time to look up at America briefly before the American launched himself at the county and tackled him to the ground. Cornwall landed hard on his back with America on top of him. The smaller avatar let out an angry shout and attempted to kick the American off of him. America at first tried to simply pin and immobilise Cornwall but when the other started clawing at America's arms and face, the American wrapped his fingers around Cornwall's throat and tightened his grip.

England could only watch in horror as the two other avatars struggled against each other. His horror grew when he saw Cornwall's eyes change and become scared and confused. Cornwall stopped fighting America and tried to get the American's hands to release his throat. But America remained oblivious to the change and continued pressing down.

"America, stop it please!" England called out in a panicked tone, rushing over to America and trying to push the American off of Cornwall.

However England didn't have the strength to push the larger nation off. America cast a confused side-glance at England and he growled, "The bastard was threatening you, why are you standing up to him now?"

"Because you're choking him!" England yelled out as he went to America's hands and tried uncurling his fingers from Cornwall's neck. America looked down at the Cornish avatar and realized that the county had stopped struggling. America relaxed his grasp on Cornwall's neck and glared at him suspiciously.

As Cornwall coughed and choked to refill his lungs with much-needed air, America was confused by his expression. Cornwall was staring back at the American with fear, but also with a lot of confusion. The county looked completely lost. This wasn't the type of expression someone would wear after they had been caught red-handed in threatening someone else. America glanced at England and was shocked to see that the Brit was staring at Cornwall with worried eyes. Alright, something was not right here. England shouldn't look so worried for someone who had just threatened him. What had America missed?

America turned his attention back to Cornwall and he started to growl, "Okay, what were you doin-"

"What's going on here?" A voice called out in shock.

America, England and Cornwall looked up to see Ireland and a handful of the Commonwealth nations come around the corner and taking in the scene before them. New Zealand spoke worriedly, "We heard the commotion, what happened?"

"Cornwall here was threatening England!" America spat angrily, looking down at Cornwall with contempt.

Cornwall's eyes widened with utter disbelief and he hoarsely croaked, "I did?"

"No he wasn't!" England argued loudly.

America looked at England with confusion and he protested, "But I saw Cornwall with my own eyes threatening you England! How can you deny it? And," America turned back to Cornwall with an even more confused expression, demanding, "why are you acting as if you had no idea what had just happened? I just saw you threatening England and then you tried to claw my face out when I tackled you."

"I wouldn't do that!" Cornwall denied vehemently, closing his eyes tightly as he shook his head.

Now America was really getting furious. Cornwall was just messing with him, there was no way Cornwall could wriggle out of this situation. Why would Cornwall lie so blatantly when there were two eyewitnesses who could tell otherwise? America snarled, "Cut the crap Cornwall, I saw everything with my own eyes!"

"America, calm down!" Canada exclaimed suddenly.

The America stared at his brother in confusion but before he could say anything, Scotland added, "Cornwall can't help it America." America's expression only got even more confused, the North American nation looked absolutely lost.

Ireland sighed as he turned his attention to England. "I think Sasana needs to tell us what happened exactly…"

The small island nation looked down at the ground and he shifted uneasily. He began to explain, "It's all kind of my fault… I was talking with Cornwall and I asked him this question…"

* * *

After having explained the whole situation to the other nations, they all returned to the meeting room to discuss it further. America and the other nations were quite astounded and confused when Ireland and Scotland revelaed to them that Cornwall suffered from a dissociative identity disorder. Mental disorders were extremely rare among the avatars, practically unknown among the nations. So for many of the nations, it was their first time meeting an avatar who had this type of problem.

Cornwall had gotten rather quiet and withdrawn, disliking the way the other nations were staring at him now. They were paying more attention to him and were looking at him with more interest, but it was the wrong kind of interest. It was the interest that Cornwall was trying to avoid. He hated being singled out like that, it made him feel like a bigger freak. He sat on a chair at the very back of the room, trying to get away from the uncomfortable stares.

Small purple bruises had appeared on his throat where America had chocked him. Thankfully the American hadn't put too much force in his grasp but the bruises still looked quite nasty. America had apologised many times for overreacting but the Cornish avatar didn't seem to be in a very talkative mood.

"I still can't believe that he has that thing… that dissociative identity disorder you said?" America looked at Scotland for confirmation. Scotland nodded slowly as he sighed heavily.

"But when did he get that?" Canada asked curiously, still trying to get over his initial shock at discovering that Cornwall was suffering from such a disorder. He would have never guessed just by looking at him. He seemed like a normal avatar.

Ireland shrugged uncertainly as he explained, "Corn na Breataine went into a coma-like state when his language was all but reduced to a few words in 1777. He stayed like that until the early 1900s, where his people started working to revive the language. But because of that split that occurred between them over which version of the language should be revived again, Cornwall woke up and he… might have had it since then. We weren't 100% sure about it, none of us knew what he had exactly until a few decades later when people gained a better understanding on mental disorders. We still hope that it's not permanent but it's been over a century already…"

"It must be awesome having something as kickass as that." America mumbled to himself, looking over at Cornwall.

Scotland and Ireland looked positively affronted by America's words. Scotland frowned and chided, "America, mental disorders can be many things but one thing they'll never be is "awesome". It's not a laughing matter and it has damaged Cornwall's self-esteem greatly."

"Do you have any idea how horrible it was for him in the beginning when none of us understood what was wrong with him? He had to be separated from Sasana because we thought he was going to seriously hurt him." Ireland looked at America sternly. "Breatain Beag and Sasana even had to briefly consider the possibility that Corn na Breataine was damaged and could no longer be the representation of his own people. Can you even imagine how scared Cornwall was?"

"Sorry, sorry, I had no idea!" America hastily apologised, leaning away from the two Celtic nations while looking at them uneasily. He hadn't meant to sound so insensitive about it but it had certainly rubbed Scotland and Ireland in the wrong way. He tried to amend, "I was just trying to say that it is interesting. I mean we don't get a lot of avatars that have something that does not really represent their people. Like Prussia's people were not all albinos but he still is one. And some of the eye colours some of us have are really cool, like Romania's red eyes."

Ireland sighed, "Corn na Breataine's two differently coloured eyes are interesting. His mental disorder is not as interesting as it is sad. It's not something I would like to live with. He's always scared of losing control of himself and doing something he would normally never do. And then he has to face the consequences of his actions which he can't even remember. The fight he had with you would occur so much more often if it weren't for the fact that he kept himself isolated from the others. We're trying to help him have more confidence in himself but events such as these don't help at all."

"Alright, I said I was sorry. I won't say something stupid like that ever again…" America declared truthfully as he locked gazes with Ireland to show that he was serious about his words. After a moment of silence, he suddenly asked, "Hey, where did England go? He was not far from us a while ago…"

"Don't worry America, he's over there talking with Northern Ireland." Canada reassured the American, nodding his head over to the two UK nations sitting just a few seats away from them. They seemed to be talking about something fairly serious but they both seemed at ease. The Canadian then looked at Cornwall who was sitting further back, noting, "He really doesn't like the attention, does he?"

Cornwall had been given an ice pack by India for the bruises on his throat and India, Australia and South Africa were gathered around the county and seemed to be talking amiably with him. Though Cornwall was smiling slightly and responding to the three nations, it was clear he wanted nothing else but to get away. Australia seemed to be talking sympathetically to the Cornish avatar but just as he seemed to reach forward to pat on Cornwall's shoulder, the county leaned away from the hand and shook his head with a grim smile.

"Why should he? It only makes him more miserable and he feels even more outcast than before." Ireland exhaled deeply, sounding guilty. "I feel bad for him, I would have liked to avoid telling everyone about his disorder…"

"Yeah but if you didn't tell us anything about it, things could have gotten quickly ugly. I didn't understand why Cornwall didn't remember anything and I thought he was fooling around." America pointed out, wincing slightly as he remembered how close he had been to verbally attacking Cornwall. He didn't like it when he thought that others weren't taking him seriously or they were thinking that they could somehow make him look like an absolute idiot in front of other nations.

"There is one thing though that surprises me…" Canada trailed off thoughtfully, turning to look at Ireland and Scotland with inquisitive eyes. "I didn't know that Cornwall was aware of the dark voice in England's head. When did you tell him about it?"

Scotland frowned at that and he looked at Ireland quizzically. He said slowly, "…We never told Cornwall about the dark voice, did we?"

Ireland shook his head uneasily, "No, we actually never mentioned it to him."

"Did Wales perhaps tell him?" Canada questioned in confusion, furrowing his brows. This was starting to look very strange. When Scotland and Ireland shook their heads in response, it got even stranger for Canada. Glancing briefly at Cornwall, Canada asked, "But how can one personality of Cornwall know while the "dominant" one hasn't been told about it? England did say that Cornwall was threatening the dark voice, not him. So how could Cornwall have known about the dark voice without anyone mentioning it to him?"

None of the other nations could think up of a sensible answer to that question. This was indeed quite a mystery. How had Cornwall found out about the dark voice?

All of a sudden, Scotland, Ireland and Cornwall all bent over themselves and covered their ears tightly, screaming in pain. All the other nations jumped and looked at the Celtic nations in confusion and fear. There was a resounding snap and something crashed into the chairs.

* * *

**A/N**

Sorry, this cliffhanger was one of the few things I enjoyed building up to in this chapter so don't jump at my throat so quickly for it. I really resent this chapter and I hope to write a better chapter next time and without the long wait. At least I'm actually looking forward to writing the next chapter. If you enjoyed this chapter, I'm exceedingly glad. Cause I don't like it and frankly the chapter could have gone better. I'm not sure if I can write it better, I'll have to see once I calm down and I can read this without immediately bashing my head against a wall.

But yeah, some notes to go with what I wrote: Ireland's comment about Albion being a softie reflects to the time when the Romans were starting to leave and the Irish and the Picts were getting increasingly violent. They literally started kicking the Britons around and massacaring them. Ireland actually managed at one point to invade the entire western coast of Britain but the only settlement that became successful was Scotland. The other settlements eventually merged with the Britons. Oh well, Ireland has a good reason to feel slightly guilty, he was an absolute ass back then to his own sister. I can't stand it anymore when I see those Ireland OCs who are so cute, innocent and kind and they are just the tortured victims of the "evil bastard" England. Just... no. Ireland was rarely sweet, I can almost say with certainty that when he first met Wales and Cornwall, he absolutely terrified them. I love how many people employ the "things used to be so nice before England came around" plot backstory to underline how tortured England's siblings were under England. Things were never nice, the Celts were hardly better than the Germanics. The only thing we can hold against the Germanics is that they were a lot more organized and were not as volatile as the Celts. But otherwise... England's family was messed up a long time before England himself showed up. =_=

Oopps, went into a bit of a rant there, sorry. (But it really annoys me seeing all those generic Fem!Irelands weeping their eyes out and doing nothing else. Isn't anyone else a bit miffed by them?) Where was I? Ah yes, another short note: You guys will not believe the number of people I see around here (Scotland) who think that walking in sweat pants is publicly acceptable. They always look like they just rolled out of bed. I've observed an identical trend in Ireland and I wouldn't be so surprised if you could see a similar thing in England and Wales. Taste in clothes seems to be quite hereditary in the British Isles, eh?

I actually know what happened to Albion! It's very obscure and very pseudo-historical so I'll have fun revealing that to you guys later on. I've actually been discovering lately rough dates where certain Ancients died. I know when Gaul dies as well. I realized though that Himaruya left quite a big hole with the fall of the Ancients. We can roughly tell when Rome, Ancient Greece and Ancient Egypt fell. But what about Germania? Historically speaking, he never "fell". The only explanation I have for his death is that he died at the hands of those eastern barbarians which prompted the massive migrations of the German tribes across the rest of Europe.

Alright, to the historical points in the discussion: Ireland did join the Commonwealth in 1931 but he left when he declared himself a republic because it went against the rules of being a member of the Commonwealth back then. (not anymore though, I believe) I've found a few recent articles discussing the option of having Ireland return to the Commonwealth and you know what? I actually agree with the idea. If it is ever decided to hold a vote whether Ireland should rejoin the Commonwealth or not, I'll vote "Go ahead!" We've got nothing to lose, seeing as the new government is doing the same damn thing as the old one did in dealing with the economic crisis, even though the new government promised that they would be doing things differently.

And I was quite surprised myself to discover that Thatcher did actually try to negotiate a deal with China to keep Hong Kong. Of course the Chinese rejected the offer but it was as a result of that negotiation that it was promised the Hong Kong would become a Special Administrative Region upon returning to China in 1997. (from what I understood) I've tried seeing both sides on the subject of the Falklands War and all I can honestly say on that subject is: Argentina may have the right to demand that Falkland Islands should belong to them because of geographical location, but was an invasion really the best answer? I'll admit that I am not very knowledgable about the Falklands War, other than the fact that England did fight back fiercely, and while I did ask people who might have a better knowledge of it, they've all told me that Argentina doesn't really have anything supporting their claim. *shrugs* I would benefit from finding an English person, an Argentinian and a Falklander who lived during those times and ask their opinions about it but while one group is very easy to find, the two other groups aren't as simple. So don't get mad at me if I wrote something wrong, I lack the proper unbiased view on this subject.

A brief explanation about Rwanda's characterisation: While his comment is without a doubt uncalled for and I'm pretty sure I may have insulted people without meaning to, I would like to point out that I suspect Rwanda has been essentially desensitized to a lot of those touchy subjects. Rwanda has had a very violent history with a genocide that has occurred just a few decades ago. I think these acts of violence have temporarily desensitized him so that he could deal with the enormous trauma of watching his people kill each other. So he might come off as a bit of a jerk, but no one is calling him out for it because he's in a state where he could easily snap back. It's like trying to punish a dog for growling after it has had a thorn in its paw that went unnoticed for many months. I'm not trying to say that his comment is excusable, but some circumstances have to be taken into account when considering his attitude.

Anything else I should draw attention to? Well, since I've had quite a positive reaction to my idea of revealing the dark voice's origin, I've decided to go on with the idea. It will create a few interesting chapters, I think it will tie in very nicely. Even though this story arc does kind of come out of nowhere... then again, the dark voice itself came out of nowhere. If I can be perfectly honest, it wasn't even meant to be in the story originally. Oh yeah, I can remember that at least for the first 10 chapters, the dark voice was completely absent. It was just on the day before I uploaded my very first chapter that I got that spark of inspiration and I wrote the dark voice in without hesitation. Once the chapter had been uploaded, I noticed what I had done and I was just thinking "Oh God, what was I thinking?" A second later I added, "Well, let's see what I can do with you, dark voice." I do actually interact with my characters, even the dark voice occasionally. And sometimes the scenes I write come directly from them. ^^; Creations inspire creators sometimes.

Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter (I'm in a better mood now btw) and I shall strive to write the next one and upload it sooner and more interesting. It seems anyway that things will start to speed up, seeing as I've left you guys once again on a very cruel cliffhanger. See ya next time!


	43. Chapter 42

*Drags herself in with the new chapter* Hi everyone... *snores* Alright, so I'm a bit sleep deprived. ^^; Sometimes my insomnia just won't take a no for an answer. But I've finally managed to put together a new chapter for all of you! Not as unhappy with this one as the last one, but I still sruggled with a few of the scenes. I can't even tell which scene I actually liked writing the most... ah well, I still hope that you guys didn't mind the long wait too much and I really hope you'll enjoy this new chapter! :D

Anyway, I'm doing quite well, despite my tiredness. I'm alright health-wise, I have to study for the three exams that will be in less than three weeks. Things are going fine with my family, even though my father continues to whine to me about how he still hopes my mother will return... did I mention I was tired? X)

Also, I want to draw attention to some awesome fanart drawn by Hybrid! I've tried posting the link here with all the 2s or ?s put in between but the link refused to remain intact. So... go look on the 1st page of the reviews and find Hybrid's! And then you can copy and paste and see the amazing fanart they did of England fighting the dark voice with teh white dome! ^^ On that note, go on deviantart and search for both TsunderePizza and Neete6Oni, their art is fantastic! TsunderePizza has drawn England's brothers quite a few times and they look awesome in her style! Neete6Oni has also drawn a chibi England with wings, the picture is absolutely adorable! Go and find these two, and fav the heck out of them! ^^ Erm, I'm also on deviantart but my art is hardly anything special, so don't look for me. (besides, my art really mainly concentrates on England's brothers more than anything else) But it has brought me to an idea... going from the picture Hybrid drew for me, I've actually become quite curious about how everyone else envisions the dark voice. So, you know... if you ever have time and you feel like it, I would be really interested if you guys drew the way you see the dark voice. Or if you want to draw some fanart for this story... go on, I fully encourage you. :) Alright, enough of advertising and such. ^^;

Let's get on to the chapter! I hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

Chapter 16

_-Five minutes prior-_

England was sitting at the meeting table on his own, feeling a bit sad. He had chosen to be alone for the moment, feeling quite guilty over the whole thing. If he hadn't pressed Cornwall over Albion's fate, Cornwall wouldn't have switched over to his aggressive personality, America wouldn't have attacked him and there wouldn't be all this mess.

But now, England could only watch helplessly at Cornwall who was sitting at the far back of the room, avoiding the curious stares from the other nations. England felt horribly guilty for having put his own county in such a position. But what could he do?

The small Brit sighed sadly and looked away from Cornwall. He then got that strange feeling that he was being studied closely by someone. England turned to look at who was staring at him, expecting to see America.

He was surprised to find that it was Northern Ireland who was standing beside him, looking at him with thoughtful eyes. England smiled weakly at the younger Irish avatar and he asked, "What are you thinking about North?"

Northern Ireland cocked his head to one side as he mumbled uncertainly, "I'm just trying to think how big you are right now… you've been growing quite a bit."

In response, England stood up to allow Northern Ireland to compare heights. As England and Northern Ireland stared at each other, both were surprised to find just how much England had grown. England didn't have to strain his neck so much to look at Northern Ireland. Northern Ireland was roughly the age appearance of a fifteen year old. England was almost reaching the height of North's chest. A little bit more and England would be at the height of Northern Ireland's shoulder, meaning that he would be only a head shorter than the younger UK nation.

Northern Ireland seemed to come to the same conclusion and he smiled widely. He commented, "Well, it's great to see that you've caught up so much height-wise. You've stayed so small for so long, I was starting to think that you would stay like that permanently."

"Doesn't seem like it, I just seem to grow at my own rate. Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly," England laughed lightly, sitting down again. He cast a glance back at Cornwall and he felt his gut twist when he saw Cornwall accept some ice from India, exposing his bruised neck.

"England, don't blame yourself for this," Northern Ireland said quietly, having followed England's gaze. England turned around to find that Northern Ireland had sat down next to him and was smiling at him reassuringly.

"But it's my fault that I put Cornwall into this situation. He got attacked by America because of me and everyone knows of his disorder now thanks to me," England countered sadly, looking down at his hands.

He saw Northern Ireland look back at Cornwall and then he smiled awkwardly at England. He shook his head and he pointed out, "It would have come out sooner or later. Something would have happened and we would have had to explain anyway of Cornwall's… condition. Cornwall couldn't go one believing that he could hide forever and no one would know of this."

"But still…," England sighed, looking at Northern Ireland with a guilty expression.

Northern Ireland's smile became crooked and it became clear to England that the younger nation was clearly not used to be in the position of comforting someone. North questioned, "But England, what are you gaining by blaming yourself? Do you feel better doing it?"

England blinked in surprise, having honestly never thought of it that way. Instead of insisting that it wasn't his fault, Northern Ireland was asking him why he thought he deserved to blame himself. England became thoughtful, trying to answer North's question.

Finally England shrugged his shoulders helplessly and he answered, "I don't really know why… I just feel that I should take the blame for it because no one else should take it. If I'm not to blame, who is?"

"What if no one's at fault?" Northern Ireland proposed slowly, looking at England thoughtfully. "Why are you convinced that you always deserve that blame?"

"Because I've made a lot of mistakes in my life? I've done a lot of bad things?" England sighed deeply, breaking eye-contact with Northern Ireland.

"But hasn't everyone?" Northern Ireland pointed out, causing England to look back at the younger UK nation. Northern Ireland shrugged after a moment and he added, "When I was very young, I used to think the world of you and Ireland was the bad guy in my eyes. Now… well, I accept that you have flaws and Ireland isn't a complete bastard… it's just my bad luck that he hardly ever shows his good side to me."

"So you think we're all grey?" England questioned hesitantly.

"Yes, exactly. Almost nothing is black or white, most of the things eventually float into the grey area," Northern Ireland agreed, smiling at England.

England still looked doubtful though. "I still don't know…"

Northern Ireland laid a comforting hand on England's shoulder as he said gently, "Just consider how you benefit from making yourself resent more. Ask yourself what you gain from it. You don't have to tell me now, just think about it for a while. Trust me, I've been there."

"Really?" England asked with a tinge of surprise in his voice.

Northern Ireland nodded solemnly as he removed his hand from England's shoulder. He then smiled thinly as he replied, "Oh yes, God knows how often I blamed myself when I was smaller when you, Ireland and Scotland would fight. You all could get very violent at times…"

"When did you stop thinking like that?" England questioned curiously.

"There wasn't really a point where I decided to stop right at that moment. It came gradually and I just accepted in the end that there are things that are beyond my control. The sooner you learn to accept that, the easier it is to live with yourself. Cornwall's disorder is beyond your control. There's no way you could have avoided that situation where his more aggressive side would have surfaced and appeared to threaten you," Northern Ireland explained, appearing to become thoughtful after having said his last sentence.

England sighed, "I suppose you have a point there…"

"I do wonder," Northern Ireland murmured thoughtfully, turning to look at England inquisitively, "how in the world did Cornwall know about the dark voice?"

"I honestly don't know," England admitted, becoming thoughtful as well. When had Cornwall been told that England had a dark voice? Wales perhaps? But wouldn't England have known of that? Wales didn't strike as the type who would talk about important things like the dark voice without informing England…

"Which brings me to another question," Northern Ireland looked at England dubiously. "Scotland has been acting strangely today… I'm sure that he must have done something he shouldn't have. What did he do?"

England looked up at Northern Ireland, blinking in surprise, but then he broke eye contact as he considered what he should say. Could he tell Northern Ireland without the danger of Ireland finding out about it too? Could he lie to Northern Ireland and hope that his younger brother would accept the white lie? North had been sharp enough to pick up that Scotland was hiding something.

England bit his lip uncertainly as he slowly answered, "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about…"

Northern Ireland shook his head with a small smile, "I'm not stupid England, I've known Scotland long enough to know that he's trying to hide something. But what exactly he's hiding, I don't know…"

At that very moment, England decided to tell Northern Ireland the half-truth. Not the entire truth but as much as he could reveal without getting Scotland into trouble. The Brit took a deep breath as he admitted, "Scotland… he…, he managed to get into my mind and he showed me how to keep the dark voice at bay."

The younger UK nation frowned in confusion as he asked, "But why would Scotland feel guilty about this?"

"I suppose because he thinks Ireland and America wouldn't approve of it?" England proposed hesitantly, shrugging his shoulders. Northern Ireland narrowed his blue eyes in slight confusion and suspicion, looking at England with calculative eyes. After an uncomfortable moment, Northern Ireland sighed and seemed to let the subject go… either he believed England's half-truth or he knew he wouldn't get a straight answer from England. The Brit honestly hoped for the former to be the situation.

"Older brothers always have to act so weirdly…," Northern Ireland grumbled quietly, focussing on a spot of the wooden table in front of him, tapping it thoughtfully. He then looked back at England and asked curiously, "How's the dark voice like actually?"

England looked at Northern Ireland with wide eyes, wondering where the sudden question had come from. He replied apprehensively, "Well… it's not exactly easy to explain it. It sounds very dark and it enjoys making me feel pain and it constantly reminds me of the bad things I did."

"I want to see that bastard for myself," Northern Ireland muttered darkly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You can't really see it, its most of the time a shadow. You can only see its green eyes and crooked smile… You're more likely to hear it rather than see it," England explained cautiously, not sure what to think of Northern Ireland's expression. The look of determination was not making England feel at ease, he felt like he was being dissected under his brother's eyes.

After a moment, Northern Ireland said in a low tone, "Then I would like to hear it for myself… can you let me do that?"

"Do what? You mean… let you into my mind?" England questioned hesitantly. Northern Ireland nodded his head eagerly, looking quite expectant. England grimaced slightly, quite uncertain about this request. Was it really a good idea to let Northern Ireland gain access to his mind just to see the dark voice?

While the dark voice wasn't dangerous to anyone, or at least it hadn't shown any interest in harming America or Scotland when they had met the dark voice, England did question whether the dark voice could disturb Northern Ireland. The dark voice could be quite frightening and it might try exactly to scare the smaller Irish avatar with dark imagery and cutting words.

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea…," England muttered slowly, looking at the younger UK nation.

Northern Ireland looked slightly crestfallen at England's response and he insisted, "But neither Scotland nor America was put in danger when they met it. So there's no danger in me meeting it, right?"

"It's just that the dark voice is very frightening and I don't want it to scare or disturb you," England pointed out, feeling very hesitant.

"England, I've had my share of demons in the past… I'm sure that the dark voice can't do anything what hasn't been already achieved before. I think I can deal with the dark voice pretty well," Northern Ireland countered, looking at England with determination in his eyes.

"…What demons?" England questioned slowly, staring at Northern Ireland quite curiously. Northern Ireland had never mentioned anything about demons before. (then again, it wasn't really something that would appear in everyday conversations)

Northern Ireland grimaced a bit as he replied, "During the Troubles… I kept seeing all those different dogs. They would bark at me, growl at me, snap at my heels… they were just horrible. But the worst was when they had me cornered and then they would bite me. Every time I was bitten, a bomb would explode somewhere at my place and I could hear my people scream. I doubt that anything the dark voice throws at me can match that."

Despite the fact that Northern Ireland sounded so confident, England still had his doubts. In actual fact, why did Northern Ireland want to meet the dark voice so much? He hadn't given England a good reason… frowning at that, England questioned, "But why do you want to meet the dark voice?"

"I want to meet it and…tell it what I think of it." Northern Ireland mumbled quietly, looking down at his hands. It looked like he was trying to hide something.

England cocked his head to one side and he bemusedly questioned, "Somehow, I feel like you have a different reason for meeting the dark voice…"

"Look England," Northern Ireland laughed awkwardly, "I'll not pester you further with what Scotland really did and you won't try to figure out why I want to meet the dark voice. Deal?"

"Still…," England raised a thick eyebrow, feeling quite puzzled, "You're curious, aren't you?"

Northern Ireland shifted uneasily in his chair and he begrudgingly admitted, "Well, I am a bit curious too… but look England, I know what we can do in case things go… bad." Northern Ireland looked up at England as he explained, "I did some reading when Scotland explained to me how America managed to get in your head and I found that we can create a weak link that can be simply broken if you let go of my hand. So I can go in your mind and if something happens, you just have to let go of my hand and we both wake up again."

Alright, Northern Ireland had done more research into something he claimed to be simply curious about. Clearly Northern Ireland had some ulterior motive to meet the dark voice. But what was it exactly? North didn't seem ready to reveal his reason… but his proposition seemed sound. If it was as easy as Northern Ireland made it out to be, it wouldn't hurt to let him have a peek. Despite his initial doubts, England began to consider the idea more and more.

It wouldn't be so bad to allow Northern Ireland to catch a glimpse of England's ego… when England turned to look at the younger UK nation, he could see that Northern Ireland already seemed to guess what England's answer was going to be now.

England chuckled, "You're quite sneaky, aren't you?"

"Not sneaky, I simply know how to make a good argument." Northern Ireland countered cheekily, smiling confidently. He added as an afterthought, "Though I think that kind of runs in the family."

"Alright, we can do it later after the meeting has ended." England agreed, smiling in amusement.

"Why not now?"

The Brit frowned in confusion and he questioned, "Now? But the meeting is still going on."

"It doesn't look like it will pick up for a while," Northern Ireland pointed out, looking around the meeting room. England looked around as well and noticed that there wasn't any hint of the meeting starting anytime soon. Was there even anything left to discuss?

Still, England was hesitant. "But North, is it really the time and place to do something like that?"

"All I want is a quick peek, I doubt anyone will even notice our "absence" by the time we come back," Northern Ireland proposed hopefully. "It's not like we're going to spend hours in your mind."

"I suppose not… but I'm still not entirely certain about doing this now," England mumbled, looking at the other nations. It looked like everyone was deep in a conversation, no one seemed to be questioning whether the meeting should continue or not. Most nations seemed perfectly okay with gossiping and exchanging stories between themselves. Even Cornwall was talking with India, South Africa and Australia.

Then… why not? No one would necessarily notice if England and Northern Ireland are just gone for a few minutes. And England always had the option of letting go of the Irish avatar's hand and they both would be back before a nation could blink.

"We might as well do it now." England finally conceded, turning to look at the expectant Northern Ireland. Uncertainly, England stretched his hand out towards Northern Ireland and he asked, "So, how does this work?"

Northern Ireland smiled widely as he clasped England's hand gently but firmly, pressing his thumb against the middle knuckle of the Brit's hand. North whispered lowly to England, "Just close your eyes and repeat those words after me."

England nodded and closed his eye.

* * *

_It was really strange for England to be coming back to the darkness of his mind willingly. Any other day, England would have gladly refused the offer. What he was thankful to see is that he and Northern Ireland landed in the middle of the white dome. So the dome actually remained standing when England left it? Well, that was quite helpful. _

_Northern Ireland looked around as well, seeming amazed. He murmured quietly, "Wow, it actually worked. I did it completely from the book and it actually worked! Maybe my magic is not that bad after all." _

"_Can't get worse from Ireland's and Scotland's," England joked lightly, earning himself a small laugh from the younger UK nation as well. Both nations fell silent as they started searching for the dark voice. England was surprised to find that there was no sign of it anywhere. He usually would have caught a glimpse of it by now… was it maybe sulking? England knew that the dark voice hated the white dome._

_After a few minutes of waiting, Northern Ireland asked, "Maybe I should walk a few steps away from this dome? I feel like the dark voice doesn't really like it and I doubt it will show up anytime soon." Carefully, the Irish avatar walked out of the dome and started moving towards the complete darkness. _

"_I really don't think you should go too far…," England commented uneasily, disliking the heavy silence. Something felt terribly off in the darkness, England sensed anger tainting the air. He definitely knew that the dark voice wasn't being its usual self, which was in itself already a bad sign._

"_Don't worry England, I won't wander too much," Northern Ireland declared confidently as he turned around to smile reassuringly back at England. England looked at the younger UK nation closely and noticed that despite the fact that Northern Ireland seemed a bit apprehensive as well, his eyes expressed a mixture of determination and curiosity. Northern Ireland apparently had his mind set on confronting the dark voice. England could only be thankful that the dark voice could only hurt him and no one else. _

_Or else he would have never allowed Northern Ireland into his mind…_

_But even if the dark voice couldn't exactly hurt Northern Ireland, it could still frighten and disturb the younger nation. England wasn't sure, he felt almost tempted to call Northern Ireland back into the white dome. Northern Ireland was at least safe from the dark voice's influences here… out there in the darkness, he was at the mercy of England's ego._

_Northern Ireland took a few more cautious steps into the darkness, looking around in the hopes of spotting the elusive ego. It was being unusually quiet and it made England feel very anxious. Northern Ireland stared hard into the darkness for a few minutes, straining his eyes to see the shadowy ego._

"_Well, it doesn't look like it's going to show up today, isn't it?" Northern Ireland finally concluded, turning to look England and trying his best not to sound too disappointed._

_England shrugged and responded, "It does the things it wants to, I have very little control over it. It won't come and go if I simply order it to." _

_The Irish nation sighed at that but just as he was going to take the first step back towards the dome, England briefly saw something shift behind him. Suddenly the dark voice rose up like a shadow from behind England's brother, towering over the younger avatar. Its eyes were unusually sane-looking, any signs of a frenzy glint missing. However its eyes were burning with fury and hatred, not a suitable substitute for the crazed expression. Its eyes were focussed on Northern Ireland, looking absolutely murderous._

_Northern Ireland stopped when he saw England's expression become suddenly horrified and fear-stricken. He turned his head to look behind him and Northern Ireland seemed to freeze in his place as he realized what was standing behind him. _

_Absolute silence reigned for a few seconds, no one so much as twitching a muscle. England and Northern Ireland were frozen in their places and the dark voice continued watching North with hateful eyes. It then seemed to grow even taller and it bent forward, its green eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. It then opened its mouth and it let out a scream of pure rage, diving towards Northern Ireland. _

_England reeled back as the scream tore its way into the white dome and shattered the structure. The island nation fell back as his ears were ringing with the inhuman shriek, shards of white light falling around him. England looked fearfully back for Northern Ireland._

_The dark voice had wrapped its snake-like arms around Northern Ireland and roughly pushed him to the ground, pinning him on his side. Northern Ireland struggled to escape the ego but was unable to stop the dark voice from turning his head around forcefully, giving the ego the opportunity to press its forehead against the avatar. As it was doing that, it started muttering something fiercely at the young UK nation. England couldn't see Northern Ireland's face but he was absolutely certain that the younger Irish nation was absolutely petrified._

_Things took a turn for the worst when shadowy dogs appeared around Northern Ireland and England. The dogs seemed to become more solid, many taking on the appearance of either an Irish setter or an English bulldog. The dogs around them started growling and snarling, looking absolutely menacing. The ego let go of Northern Ireland's head and North turned to look at the circling dogs, his eyes wide with absolute terror. _

_Some of the Irish setters approached England and began snapping at him, causing England to shift in Northern Ireland's direction. When he turned to look at Northern Ireland, England saw that he was a lot worse off, shrinking back each time a dog came closer. Either Northern Ireland had a major dog phobia or he was reliving a nightmare. The dark voice was still there and it was attempting to wrap itself around Northern Ireland like a snake, hissing loudly. Northern Ireland looked at England helplessly and he cried out for help. The cry was muffled when the dark voice wrapped it's snake-like arm around Northern Ireland's mouth and throat, and it tightened its grip. Northern Ireland's eyes widened with shock and he started thrashing around, trying to get the dark voice off of him. The dogs drew even closer, blood dripping out of their gaping jaws. _

_Mind numb with panic and horror at the sight, England desperately tried to think quickly of a solution to get Northern Ireland out of his mind. How could he get Northern Ireland away from the dark voice's influence? _

_Of course! Hadn't Northern Ireland told England that they were creating a weak connection so that Northern Ireland would be able to leave if England released his hand? So England had to somehow concentrate on opening his hand! _

_Just then, one of the Irish setters leapt forward and bit down on England's right wrist, clamping its jaws down. England screamed out in pain and he tried shaking the dog off. Echoing screams seemed to hit England like a brick wall, the sound causing England's mind to reel. The sound washed around England and engulfed him completely, making escape of this world of screaming darkness impossible. He didn't know who was screaming anymore, all he knew is that the sound was deafening and Northern Ireland was certainly not faring better._

_England shut his eyes tightly and despite the pain of his wrist still being in the jaws of a dog, he concentrated on letting go of North's hand. He had never done that before, trying to actively get someone out of his mind and he wasn't even so sure how to gain control of his hand in this kind of a situation. _

_But as the screams became louder and England felt that he was slowly losing sanity to the screeching wails, the island avatar furrowed his brows as he tried focussing on his hand outside of his mind, sending it the order to let go. After several moments of struggling, England felt the muscles in his hand twitch in response to the order._

_Just then England heard Northern Ireland scream out in pain and large snap resounded in the nation's mind._

* * *

Every nation in the room turned around when they heard something crash into the chairs. They found before them an unsettling scene. Northern Ireland seemed to be the source of the crash if his prone body was of any evidence. Anyone that had been paying attention knew that just a few minutes ago, England and Northern Ireland had been chatting normally. Now Northern Ireland lay among the chairs while England was a bit further from the table, on his side.

It seemed almost like an invisible force had come between the two UK nations and had viciously shoved them apart, sending both of them crashing to the ground.

America immediately leapt to his feet and rushed over to England, his frantic blue eyes filled with worry. Some of the other nations recovered from their shock and quickly made their way over to England and Northern Ireland. England heard the hurried footsteps approaching him and he dizzily tried struggling to his feet, violently forcing his body to move. America crouched and tried reaching out to offer support to England but he hesitated a moment when the Brit jerked slightly and looked upwards at the American, his eyes wide and filled with absolute panic and… rage? But a second passed and the rage was gone, as if it had never been there.

Deciding not to question what he had seen, America instead concentrated on the more important matter at hand. "England, are you… what happened?"

England eventually managed to get on his two feet, though he lurched forward a few times, making America consider whether he should be standing up at all. England looked like as if he needed a lie down more. But the small nation sort of half nodded and half shook his head and he answered shakily, "I'm okay America, I'm okay. But North…"

The Brit stumbled forward, more interested in seeing Northern Ireland than in even his own state. England almost fell forward but America caught him just in time, straightening up with England in his arms. He couldn't help but notice that there was a large ugly bruise on England's right wrist, as if he had been grabbed forcefully by someone. America turned around to allow England to see Northern Ireland, as that seemed to be the only thing on England's mind right now.

Some of the nations were around Northern Ireland, trying to see what was wrong. After a few moments, Northern Ireland stirred and just like England, he tried to struggle to his feet as well. Australia and New Zealand shifted closer to the Irish avatar but they seemed at loss whether they should help him to his feet or try to keep him down on the ground. Northern Ireland seemed to be struggling more than England, his skin deathly white and his eyes looking around wildly. America was shocked to see that Northern Ireland's pupils were so wide that they were literally drowning out his blue irises.

Northern Ireland started coughing and choking, but he still tried to get himself on all fours. Suddenly he retched and some blood poured out of his mouth, dripping to the ground and leaving dark stains on the light blue carpet. Ireland and Scotland appeared next to Australia, having seemingly recovered from whatever fit they were having before.

"North, stay on the ground," Ireland ordered harshly, trying to get his younger brother to lie down on his side. Northern Ireland briefly ignored Ireland's words and he attempted to struggle to his feet again. But with the added effort of Ireland, Scotland and Australia, all three nations pushed Northern Ireland gently but firmly to the ground, making sure to keep him on the side to avoid having the avatar choke on his own blood.

The younger Irish brother wheezed weakly and his body convulsed. America could hear that the young UK nation was breathing very rapidly and he felt sorry for the distraught avatar. America quickly checked on England to make sure that he was faring a bit better. England seemed to be more in a numbed state of shock, though America was not sure if that was any better. At least with Northern Ireland, everyone could see that he was almost having a sort of mental breakdown. With England… things weren't so visible.

"I'm fine America," England mumbled hollowly, never breaking eye-contact from the scene in front of him. America looked dubious, that response from England was not reassuring at all.

America became aware of the panicked voices in the room, many of the nations were crowding around the two UK nations as they tried to see what the hell was going on. India was doing her best to calm the other nations down and too ensure that they weren't crowding too close.

"Everyone, please settle down!" India exclaimed, trying to rise over the waves of panicked voices. "Calm down, every one of you! Raised voices will help neither England nor Northern England."

"But what's wrong with Northern Ireland?" Seychelles burst out, looking very much concerned. The nations surrounding Seychelles nodded in agreement, that was the main question that seemed to be running through their minds.

However, those who were surrounding Northern Ireland were completely focussed on calming the distressed nation instead. Well, to be more exact, Ireland and Australia were making sure of keeping Northern Ireland on his side while Scotland and New Zealand spoke quietly to the younger Irish avatar.

America felt Canada approach England and the Canadian started looking England, trying to make sure that nothing was amiss with him.

"Don't worry Canada, I didn't find anything wrong with England," America informed his brother, though he was tempted to add "externally" to his sentence. Internally, America wasn't so sure. England didn't seem to have fully snapped out of his shock, he was still staring at Northern Ireland intently though the rest of his face remained blank.

Canada seemed to come to the same conclusion after a moment, but that didn't stop him from looking at England worriedly. He also noticed the strange bruise on England's wrist but he made no comment. He did however take England's hand and he studied the bruised wrist closely. This seemed to snap the Brit out of his shock and he ripped his hand out of Canada's reach, as if his hand hurt. Canada looked shocked by the reaction. America sighed and he brought England over to the meeting table, setting him down on one of the chairs.

England looked up at America and Canada, and was about to protest but the American interjected firmly, "I know what you want to say England, but until I know what the hell happened, I won't let you strain yourself."

"Alright, where did the blood come from?" Australia questioned in confusion, drawing America's attention to Northern Ireland. It seemed like the younger nation seemed a bit calmer than before and Ireland and Australia appeared to be looking for the source of Northern Ireland's blood.

"Do you think there was a bomb?" New Zealand asked in a concerned voice, looking down at North.

"I can check…," Ireland muttered uneasily, taking his phone out of the phone and dialling a number. He stood up and walked away from the nations, phone held tightly to his ear.

Scotland stared after Ireland and then he looked back at Northern Ireland, seeming thoughtful. "I actually doubt that it was a bomb," Scotland finally said, "If it had been a bomb, there would have been a ruptured wound and we'd be seeing more blood. This looks more internal…"

"Didn't anyone else hear a snap?" America questioned, looking around at the other nations. Some of the nations frowned as they remembered the strange sound, but no one had been able to pinpoint the source of it.

However Australia seemed to have understood where it could have come from. He turned to Northern Ireland and he asked gently, "North, can you hear me?"

Northern Ireland gave Australia a jerky nod after a few seconds, though his eyes weren't entirely focussed.

Australia then questioned hesitantly, "Can you feel your arms and legs? No pain or numbness in them?"

Northern Ireland briefly looked up at Australia, looking slightly lost. He dropped his gaze to the ground and he hesitantly stretched his arms and legs, his hands shaking. After a moment he shook his head but then he winced, as if he felt a jolt of pain run through him.

"But since he spat out blood…," New Zealand said thoughtfully, looking at Australia with uncertain eyes. He added, "Maybe the problem's around the abdomen area?"

Understanding what New Zealand meant, Australia asked Northern Ireland hesitantly, "North, I will need to pull your shirt up. Are you alright with that mate?"

When Northern Ireland nodded his head blankly, Australia gently rolled North onto his back and pushed his shirt upwards. All the nations leaned forwards simultaneously to get a look and many of them gasped in shock or grimaced. There was an alarmingly large and hideous bruise on Northern Ireland's abdomen, as if a horse had kicked him twice there. It was right at that moment that Ireland seemed to return from his phone call.

"Alright, it's a false alarm from North's government. No bombs have been reported so it must be something el- JESUS CHRIST!" Ireland exclaimed as he laid eyes on Northern Ireland's ugly bruise. Ireland strode back to Scotland's side and he demanded helplessly, "Where did that bloody bruise come from?"

Scotland shook his head numbly as he answered, "I have no idea…"

"Something snapped so one of Northern Ireland's ribs must be broken… but this is a very large area…," Australia noted uneasily as he carefully hovered his hand over Northern Ireland's bruise, trying his best to press very lightly on the bruised skin. He went to the darkest area of the bruise and pressed down slightly.

The response was immediate, Northern Ireland tensed up and he cried out in pain. He tried twisting his body away from the Aussie's hand but both New Zealand and Scotland held Northern Ireland's shoulders and kept him in place.

"Well, one of his ribs are certainly broken… which one though?" Australia wondered out loud as he pulled his hand back. He looked at the bruise closely, trying to guess which one could be broken.

"Maybe there's more than one?" Canada proposed hesitantly, seeming to regret what he was suggesting.

"You mean some ribs broke at the same time?" America questioned hoarsely, feeling quite queasy about the idea.

"It might explain why the snap was so loud…," South Africa trailed off shakily, her eyes widening in realization.

"But why did his ribs break?" India asked, looking completely at loss. The other nations looked just as confused, looking between each other, hoping that someone knew more than they did.

"England," Scotland began uncertainly, looking up at England who was still sitting on the chair. "What happened? Who attacked North?"

The smaller Brit seemed to snap out of his blank state and he slid off the chair slowly. America kept a very close eye on England, ready to catch him if the Brit stumbled. Though England wobbled slightly, he quickly caught his balance and he walked towards Scotland and Northern Ireland.

His expression was of extreme regret and fear. He began shakily, "I-I'm r-really sorry, I never t-thought anything like this would h-happen. The d-dark voice… it… it attacked North."

The nations looked shocked and scared at this revelation. England had mentioned the dark voice to everyone not too long ago when he had been explaining to them why Cornwall had "threatened" England, but no one had thought that a vicious ego could get this dangerous. Had England's ego really broken Northern Ireland's ribs? It seemed almost too farfetched to be real.

But everyone could see it on England's pale face. It was real. It had really happened. An ego had just attacked and injured a nation… if only that could be the description to a horrible horror movie. It sounded so unreal.

Ireland seemed to be the first to recover from his shock and he frowned darkly at England. Just as he was opening his mouth to say something, Northern Ireland struggled to sit up and he said hoarsely, "Ireland, don't. It isn't England's fault, it was all my idea. I convinced him that there was no danger, I just wanted to meet this dark voice…"

Some the nations looked quite surprised by this confession but Ireland and Scotland clearly expressed their disapproval on their faces. Ireland shook his head as he admonished, "North, that was extremely stupid of you. Why the hell would you want to meet the dark voice in the first place?"

"I didn't think anything bad would happen," Northern Ireland admitted quietly, sitting up with difficulty. He seemed to be in great pain, judging by how he tried to sit in a position where he didn't feel the sharp stings of the broken ribs.

"Wait… but you guys said that the "dark voice" was just England's ego. How can an ego attack a nation?" Tanzania wondered out loud, voicing what many of the nations were thinking. Some of the nations nodded in agreement to Tanzania's question, their expressions curious and uneasy at the same time.

Canada shook his head, "This isn't the doing of an ego. An ego may be very damaging mentally and emotionally, but nowhere have I ever read that an ego can physically hurt you like this. If the dark voice did this, then it isn't an ego… certainly not a normal one."

"Could it have been a mishap with magic?" Tonga proposed, sounding hopeful.

"Yeah, it could be an accident like Tonga said," New Zealand quickly agreed, turning to look at Ireland and Scotland. He questioned, "I mean, for Northern Ireland to meet that dark voice, he'd have to have used magic to gain access to England's mind, right? Accidents happen very often when using magic…"

"But I memorised what I read in the book over and over, there's no way I could have made a mistake!" Northern Ireland exclaimed, looking affronted. He then winced, wrapping his arms around his sides gingerly. Sudden movements seemed to be out of question for the younger Irish avatar.

"Wait, you did the spell from the book entirely? You didn't even bother to try the spell out before now?" Ireland glared at North disapprovingly, demanding, "Just how irresponsible did you want to be?"

"It wasn't a mistake," Cornwall spoke up as he stepped out from the crowd, attracting curious stares from the other nations as they all noticed that his voice had deepened. His brothers all looked up to meet the cold eyes of the Cornish avatar. Cornwall continued, "That blasted dark voice knew that Northern Ireland was there and it attacked him without any mercy."

"Umm, are we going to completely ignore that Ireland, Scotland and Cornwall were screaming their heads off just a few minutes ago?" Pakistan questioned hesitantly, looking at the other nations.

Cornwall turned around to face the Pakistani and he coolly explained, "You would be screaming your head off too if you had a voice in your head screaming so loudly you thought that your bloody eardrums were going to explode." A few nations shuddered at the graphic description, none wishing this kind of fate. Pakistan blinked in surprise but then he nodded his understanding, apparently not wanting to challenge Cornwall's explanation.

America asked uneasily, "But, who was screaming? Was it the dark voice?" Scotland, Ireland and Cornwall looked at Northern Ireland and England for confirmation and the two younger brothers nodded slowly.

Ireland still looked quite angry and worried, staring at North carefully. He said sternly to the younger brother, "Well I hope you've learnt why curiosity killed the cat. Don't you ever do something as senseless and stupid as that again. You've scared the daylights out of all of us."

Northern Ireland looked at Ireland lividly, seeming to momentarily forget his pain. He growled sarcastically, "Oh yeah, because you were totally concerned over my well-being, huh? No death-wish for me this time? I'm not dying, sorry for disappointing you yet again. Wasn't I a good for nothing in your eyes anyway?" Northern Ireland struggled to his feet, clearly in pain but too angry to care. Attempts from Australia and Scotland to push North back to the ground failed and Ireland rose to meet Northern Ireland face to face, looking thoroughly unsure of what he was supposed to do. Northern Ireland glared at Ireland and then he hissed fiercely, "You don't really care about me."

The younger Irish avatar then turned and stumbled away from Ireland, pushing his way through the crowd of nations. Many of them stepped back to allow North to pass through, not wanting to cause the young nation any more pain than he was in. Northern Ireland fled out of the meeting room and the doors were banged shut. The nations turned their stares back to Ireland, an awkward silence descending on all the nations present.

"Jesus Christ…," Ireland finally groaned as he ran his hands through his hair, sighing loudly as he stared at the ceiling, not wishing to make any eye contact with any other nation.

"There's something really strange about that dark voice. I wonder why it could attack Northern Ireland and why Ireland, Scotland and Cornwall heard it scream…," Canada mumbled thoughtfully, apparently unable to wrap his mind around these two new concepts. It was beyond doubt to America that Canada had never come across anything of that sort in his book.

"We could ask England what happened exactly, maybe he saw something that might help us," America suggested, trying to sound optimistic. He looked down to question England but then he became aware of the painstakingly obvious: England was nowhere to be seen. "Uh guys, can any of you see England?" America asked as he looked around the room, trying to spot the small blonde avatar.

The other nations seemed to notice that England was gone too and they looked around in confusion. When had England left them? Ireland looked around as well before bursting out exasperatedly, "Christ, we should just call Sasana and North the disappearing duos, they're unusually good at doing that!"

"Calm down Ireland, you know that both must still be very upset over what happened," Cornwall said calmly, glancing at Ireland warningly.

"But how in the world did England manage to sneak out of here without any of us noticing?" India questioned, looking quite puzzled.

"Well, his size?" New Zealand proposed, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. "He's still small enough that we won't notice him if he's sneaking off. And I think we were all preoccupied with something else entirely."

"Talking about preoccupation," Scotland spoke up, sounding thoughtful as he turned to Cornwall, "How do you know of the dark voice? We never mentioned it to you and I doubt that Wales told you about it."

Cornwall blinked slowly before he replied, "Isn't it obvious? Don't you remember from a long time ago?"

"Clearly it can't be obvious since neither Alba nor I know what you're talking about. Mind elaborating a bit more?" Ireland requested wearily.

The Cornish avatar looking surprised as he answered, "I'm shocked that you can't remember… didn't Strathclyde ever mention it to you? I would have thought that he would have talked to you two about it to warn you. Or scold you, either way works."

"What exactly was Strathclyde warning us about again?" Scotland questioned curiously, standing up from his kneeling position to face Cornwall. Australia and New Zealand did the same and all nations seemed to be listening very intently in anticipation of Cornwall's answer.

However, Cornwall was staring back at the other nations blankly, blinking a few times before shaking his head as if he was clearing his mind. When he opened his eyes, they had softened once more and Cornwall was looking absolutely at loss. When he was met by a wall of staring nations, Cornwall sighed, "What the hell did I do this time?"

There was a collective groan of disappointment from the nations, now that the Cornwall with the knowledge of the dark voice had gone under again. Some of the nations continued staring at Cornwall with awed eyes, clearly captivated by Cornwall's shifting from one personality to the other. Cornwall glared resentfully at those nations, trying to pass them the message that there was nothing fascinating to look at. He looked to Ireland, Scotland and America helplessly, hoping for an answer from them.

"You did nothing wrong Cornwall, don't worry," America decided to reassure, smiling comfortingly at the county, "It just seems like the other you knew of the dark voice long before we told you of it, and it seemed like he was going to tell us what he knew."

"So, how do we get the other personality to come back?" Rwanda asked in mild curiosity, looking at Cornwall in interest. Cornwall looked at Rwanda in shock, that turning into horror when some other nations seemed to nod in agreement to Rwanda's question. The other nations still seemed quite interested in hearing what Cornwall's other personality knew.

"We won't," Scotland replied firmly, both he and Ireland seeming to step closer to Cornwall protectively. "He already gave us a clue… Ireland and I just need to remember what Strathclyde could have told us that would link us back to the dark voice."

"Who was Strathclyde anyway?" America questioned inquisitively, looking at Scotland.

"He was a brother of ours… well, he was a closer brother to Wales and Cornwall but his kingdom bordered with mine and we had quite some fights with him. Sadly he's been dead for over centuries so he himself can't help us," Scotland explained, looking thoughtful.

Silence reigned over the nations again as many didn't know what else to say or ask. Some of the nations were sunken in their thoughts. Eventually the silence was broken by Cameroon who brought up a good question, "I was wondering, is there still a point in continuing this meeting? We seem to have run out of things to discuss and the main focus of the meeting is gone."

"Does that mean we can leave earlier and have the rest of the day off?" Tonga asked, sounding hopeful.

"Well, Germany said he or someone else was going to check on us sometime during the afternoon to see how the meeting was going. That seems to imply that he would want us to return to the main meeting once this one concludes," Australia answered hesitantly.

"However that doesn't mean that we should return to the meeting. If Germany can't find us, he can't tell us to return!" Seychelles declared, grinning rather cheekily.

"But we can't go back to the hotel, he'll find us very easily and order us back to the main meeting," Malta pointed out carefully.

"This is a large building full of empty meeting rooms. Many of them aren't even locked up. If we scattered in all directions, Germany might not be even bothered of going after all of us," Bangladesh suggested brightly.

"Personally I'd like to go and find England and Northern Ireland to check that they're okay," America admitted truthfully, he knew that neither nation felt 100% well and America was sure that they needed to have someone to talk to.

Canada nodded in agreement with his brother. "Yes, I think it's important that we all keep an eye out for either England or Northern Ireland, they could be anywhere in this building. I doubt that they went out of the building, especially Northern Ireland. I wonder in how much pain he must be in right now."

"Don't worry Canada, even as we speak I'm sure his body is trying to heal and mend those broken ribs. That's the good part of being a young avatar, your healing process is quite quick," Australia reassured, smiling widely at the Canadian.

"If anyone happens to stumble upon Sasana or North in one of the empty rooms, just try to console and calm them down. They certainly need it more than anything else," Ireland said as he turned to look at all the other nations present. Most nations nodded their heads to show that they understood.

"Sounds like a tamer version of the manhunt you Europeans did on England just a few weeks ago," South Africa joked lightly, getting some laughs out of the other nations. It had reached most of the nations by now about that disastrous chase that the Europeans had undertaken when England was actively avoiding them.

Scotland coughed loudly before he countered, "This is not really a question of chasing them down and bringing them back. What we really need to concentrate on is to comfort them."

"No worries Scotland, we'll try our best," India declared, smiling reassuringly at the Scot.

"Alright, so we should leave the meeting room one at the time and very quietly. Scatter as far as you can and avoid bumping into Germany," New Zealand explained, concluding the meeting. All the nations nodded solemnly, starting the plan "Avoid being dragged back to the main meeting by Germany".

* * *

England exhaled deeply, enjoying the total silence of the empty meeting room. He felt a bit bad for leaving the other nations but he needed to get out of the room. England's first response had been to blame himself for what had happened to Northern Ireland.

Remembering what Northern Ireland had asked him to consider, England had tried to think why he felt guilty over Northern Ireland's injuries. But with all the other nations demanding answers and sounding panicked or confused, England wasn't able to think clearly.

So while everyone else was listening to Northern Ireland talk with Ireland, England slipped out of the meeting room and went to look for a quieter place to think. He eventually found an open empty room on the next floor and he entered quietly. He made his way to the white window sill and with the help of a chair, he clambered onto the sill and made himself comfortable, leaning against the cool window.

Thus, England let himself drift off into thoughts and he tried to think about why he thought he deserved to feel guilty about Northern Ireland's ribs. Firstly, it wouldn't have happened if Northern Ireland had never set foot in England's mind. It further could have been avoided if England hadn't allowed Northern Ireland to wander beyond the white dome.

But then England heard a smaller voice talking at the back of his mind. The small voice reminded England that it wasn't his idea in letting Northern Ireland into his mind. The louder voice argued that England had allowed himself to be convinced by Northern Ireland that nothing bad would happen. But how could England have known that something bad could happen?

Had the dark voice in any other situations ever shown that it was capable of hurting someone else? The smaller voice underlined that England had been certain that no harm could come to Northern Ireland as the dark voice had never shown signs of becoming physical.

Did it make England responsible for allowing Northern Ireland to wander out of the white dome? In all honesty, was it really England's fault that North's ribs had been broken? England hadn't done it anyway, that was the dark voice's doing.

**But I'm your ego so it technically is your fault. You should be absolutely ashamed of yourself. **The dark voice sneered gleefully, seeming to have returned to its usual self now that it had satisfied its need to hurt someone. It hadn't been England exactly, but Northern Ireland had been the only option available.

England duly ignored his ego's voice and continued weighing the faults in his mind. The Brit also had to consider the fact that his dark voice had been absolutely livid at that time. England understood that the reason why it had been in such a bad mood was because he had managed to successfully throw off its influence and the dark voice hadn't been able to torture England as it liked to do.

So when England and Northern Ireland had appeared in his mind, the white dome had been still up and the dark voice was powerless to inflict pain and horror. When Northern Ireland wandered out of the white dome's protection, he walked right into the waiting jaws of the enraged ego. Then the dark voice had proceeded to launch all its rage and violence on the nation it could reach.

But this is what confused England the most: the fact that the dark voice had known how to frighten Northern Ireland. North had only mentioned briefly to England the dogs that used to harass Northern Ireland but he had never described them. However the dark voice had been able to recreate these dogs and judging by Northern Ireland's terrified expression, these recreations had been spot on.

For the dark voice to recreate those dogs, it would have needed access to Northern Ireland's mind and memories. Was that what the dark voice had been doing when it was pressing its "forehead" against Northern Ireland's?

…Had the dark voice used the weak connection between England and Northern Ireland to move into the young Irish avatar's body and break the ribs from inside? England's eyes widened with shock and realization as his eyes fell on his right bruised wrist. He himself hadn't noticed its presence until Canada had started inspecting it. But this wrist belonged to his hand that had been held by the Northern Ireland when the weak connection had been established. So… had the dark voice entered North's body and had caused him to tighten his grip on England's wrist, ensuring that the weak connection would be maintained.

That was why England had had so much trouble breaking the connection! He couldn't release Northern Ireland's hand because North wasn't letting go of England's hand. That actually seemed to imply that the dark voice had managed to violently possess Northern Ireland's body simply through the connection.

England shuddered at the realization, how could he have guessed that his ego was this dangerous? Was an ego supposed to be able to do that? It didn't seem likely but… what was the dark voice then in actual fact?

**Stop being so idiotic, I'm just a normal ego. You're just such an utter failure that you're not aware that it was you who attacked your own brother and broke his ribs! **The ego cackled loudly, making England frown darkly.

"All lies." England responded lowly, not willing to be fooled so easily. "I didn't give myself a bruise on the wrist. And I couldn't have done all that damage to Northern Ireland's body, even if I tried my hardest. Stop trying to trick me into believing these things, I'm not so stupid."

**Shame, you accepted the truth easier when you didn't think so much. Now you're absolutely pig-headed and you're convincing yourself with lies and you're fleeing from the truth. **The dark voice snickered darkly.

"Just shut up already!" England snapped angrily, shaking his head to clear it from the dark voice's manipulative words. It was telling the lies, not England!

"England?" A new voice questioned hesitantly.

The Brit looked up and jumped in shock. He had been so deep in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed another nation enter the room and walk up to him. England blurted out suddenly, "P-Pakistan?"

Pakistan stood right in front of him, looking quite curious. He had his hands behind his back and he was considering what he should say next. Pakistan eventually asked, "Who were you talking to?"

England looked down at his hands, embarrassed by the fact that another nation had caught him talking openly back at his own ego. The Pakistani certainly was convinced now that England was completely crazy. England replied uneasily, "I was… talking… back at the dark voice. My own ego."

The Asian nation nodded slowly and then he pulled a chair away from the table. He sat down facing England, leaning slightly backwards. He then said casually, "So you're pretty serious about this whole dark voice thing."

"You don't think I'm crazy?" England questioned carefully, looking unconvinced.

The Pakistani shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly as he answered, "Eh, I would have to face the rest of your family as I technically would be calling all of them crazy if I thought that you were crazy too."

"But why are you here? I know you don't like me much anyway." England asked, still confused over the fact that Pakistan was here. The way Pakistan had acted during the meeting had convinced England that he was an irritable nation who did not seem to like England at all.

However, England was stunned to see that Pakistan was looking rather surprised by England's assumption. Pakistan quickly shook his head, confusing England even further. Pakistan declared, "England, I don't dislike you. Never did. I'm just "a bit" annoyed by your boss's suggestion of me promoting the export of terrorism, that's all."

"But does that upset you so much?" England questioned curiously, wanting to understand.

Pakistan frowned, looking down at the ground at his shoes. He then replied hesitantly, "It's not fair being called "a safe haven for terrorists." It is hardly hair that people consider me to be a "nation full of terrorists". There's more to me than that. It's like saying you're a nation full of people with bad teeth and calling America a nation full of obese people. Yes, these people do exist, but does that honestly justify saying that one nation is full of them?" The Pakistani looked up at England, looking quite miserable as he continued, "I know the way some of the nations look at me, thinking that I'm a bad nation who has these bad terrorists. They criticize me and they scrutinize every word I say and every movement I make. For many nations, an accusation is almost always literally on the tip of their tongues when they have to deal with me. Am I so bad for wanting to defend myself and my people?"

"I suppose not…," England agreed, staring at Pakistan carefully before asking, "But during this meeting, weren't you being almost a bit provocative? You really got my brothers angry when you told them that all this mess could have been avoided if they hadn't fought so often with me."

"Well that's my honest opinion really, I do think that it would have helped if your brothers' relations to you were more positive than they were at that time," Pakistan admitted slightly sheepishly, giving England a crooked smile.

"I do think that you could have said it in a less aggressive way…," England pointed out.

"It wouldn't have really mattered how I said it, your brothers would have still been offended by my words and a fight would've broken out anyway," Pakistan explained, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm sorry if I do appear so harsh and offensive, it's just that I'm getting tired of the nations who can't or won't understand both sides of the story. Yes, I do have terrorists. Am I the only one? No. But nations continue mixing things up and they remain unsympathetic to my issues. I can admit that I'm taking my frustration out on others, but it isn't any more fair that I still have to deal with all those nations who continue to believe that I'm nothing more than a nation full of terrorists. I have culture, I have history… why are people willing to forget those things about me when they praise other nations for exactly that?"

England could hear the frustration in the Pakistani's voice and to be perfectly honest, all Pakistan really wanted to do was to let some steam off and stop having nations judge him. England couldn't understand how Pakistan felt better by being sarcastic but it was perhaps his way of dealing with his anger and frustration. Maybe England even had a similar way of dealing with his negative emotions, seeing as so many nations commented on the fact that England used to be pretty grumpy. Perhaps first impressions didn't completely define someone, they could change their personalities depending on the situations they were in. England remembered meeting many of his own personalities many months ago, he had noticed how each was different from the other. Each personality had the ability to become dominant given a certain situation they were in.

"England?" Pakistan questioned hesitantly.

"Hmm?"

"You surprised a lot of us when we noticed that you were gone… and though your brothers can seem pretty callous, I wouldn't be surprised if they were worried about you right now. Why'd you leave so suddenly anyway?" Pakistan asked inquisitively, raising an eyebrow.

"I… needed to sort my thoughts out. I needed to look into myself to see whether I deserved to blame myself for what had happened to Northern Ireland or not." England answered, sliding down from the window sill and landing on the floor lightly. Now he was eye-level with Pakistan, staring at the other cautiously yet curiously at the same time.

"What's the ultimate verdict?" Pakistan questioned, laughing jokingly.

England considered the question for a moment before replying, "I am to blame for having allowed myself to be convinced by Northern Ireland but I am not at fault for what happened to Northern Ireland. I had never seen my ego being this angry until now and I wasn't aware that it could hurt anyone who entered my mind. I think I should assume at least part of the blame."

"Sounds fair enough," Pakistan agreed thoughtfully, but then he asked sternly, "So what will the punishment be for you and for Northern Ireland?"

"P-punishment?" England stuttered nervously, staring at Pakistan with a shocked expression.

"I was just teasing you, don't worry England. Lighten up a bit!" Pakistan laughed rather loudly, patting England on the shoulder. Still chuckling mirthfully, he added, "And I should probably listen to my own advice. But how many people ever listen to their own advice?"

"A joke… hah, you could have fooled me…," England laughed weakly, mentally berating himself for having allowed Pakistan to convince him that he was being serious. He then asked, "So, how is Northern Ireland?"

"He didn't look too bad last time I saw him, though you probably know that he and Ireland got in a fight and Northern Ireland stormed out despite the fact that he has broken ribs."

England frowned at the answer, why had Ireland and North fought? He shook his head sadly as he concluded, "I guess then he's gone off somewhere and no one knows where he is…"

"Well, we've all scattered in all directions as the meeting doesn't seem like it will be picking up anytime soon and none of us want to be dragged back to the main meeting." Pakistan explained before he chuckled, "Although some of us have already been very unlucky and were caught by Germany. I think we should have left the building and mingled among the people of New Delphi. A good number of us would have stood out but most of us would have been able to blend well into the background. Ah well, we should have thought this through better. I don't actually know how many of us are still "free"."

"I think I will try my luck and go look for Northern Ireland. I want to check on him," England declared determinedly, starting to make his way towards the doors of the meeting room. He was slightly astonished to hear footsteps behind him, following the Brit. England looked behind and saw that Pakistan was indeed following him. He questioned curiously, "Are you coming with me?"

Pakistan shrugged as he replied, "It's only a matter of time before Germany manages to round us all up and send us back to the main meeting. Sooner or later he'll find me here. So I might as well tag along with you and help you find your brother."

England considered Pakistan briefly before nodding slowly, offering the Pakistani a smile. "Well, thanks."

"For what?" Pakistan immediately questioned, raising an eyebrow at the smaller Brit.

"For proving to me to never judge a book by its cover." England explained, turning to open the large door in front of him.

* * *

"Alright, Seychelles and India, get out of the closet. I saw you two sneak in here, you don't need to hold your breaths anymore," Germany ordered sternly, rapping his knuckles against the closet. America peeked from the corner sneakily, well out of Germany's sight.

The American held back his desire to laugh at the plight of India and Seychelles. They had been indeed quite noisy, it was a surprise that they hadn't been caught sooner. Somehow, skipping the main meeting had turned into a game of hide and seeking, Germany doing all the seeking. America suspected that Switzerland had been left in charge of the meeting, or else Germany wouldn't be personally searching for the other nations.

As he saw India and Seychelles open the closet door and crawl out of the small space, America turned around and crept away, praying that he wouldn't make any noise. Luckily the floor was carpeted so any sound from the shoes was out of question. America turned around another corner and spotted another flight of stairs.

Climbing them quietly, America caught a brief glimpse of Germany walking past but it seemed like the German nation decided to stay on the current floor for the moment while America went up to the next floor.

It was only a matter of time until he was caught by Germany but somehow avoiding capture until now had been actually quite fun. America didn't remember when was the last time he had this much fun skipping a meeting and he was going to try and draw out the fun as much as he could.

Once he reached the next floor, America stopped and looked around, choosing which door he should open. It was almost a 50/50 chance of finding an unlocked door, that much America had discovered until now. America walked lightly down the corridor until he randomly picked a door that looked promising.

He pressed the handle down and was satisfied to see that this door was unlocked. He opened the door quietly and very slowly, slipping inside the empty room quickly. He closed the door with a quiet click and he let out a relieved sigh.

"Who're you running from?"

Startled by the unexpected voice, America spun around with his eyes wide. At the far back of the room, sitting on the ground in the corner was… Northern Ireland? America relaxed as he realized that he must have appeared pretty silly for freaking out like that.

Smiling widely at the smaller teen, America walked over to Northern Ireland as he exclaimed, "Northern Ireland, there you are!"

"Yes, I'm here." Northern Ireland rolled his eyes and then he added, "But England isn't. He's in another castle."

"Seriously?" America laughed, "You're quoting from those games? How in the world can you link England to Princess Peach? Or me to Mario for that matter." America chuckled lightly as he sat down beside Northern Ireland.

"I tend to become a comedian when I'm in pain." Northern Ireland explained tonelessly.

"Really?" America questioned curiously, looking at the young UK nation. Northern Ireland stared back with an incredulous expression, silently telling America that no, that wasn't really the case. America still chuckled a bit and then he asked, "So, how're you feeling right now?"

"Perfectly fine." Northern Ireland answered abruptly, a bit too sudden for America's taste. America reached out and laid a hand on Northern Ireland's abdomen carefully. Despite America's care, Northern Ireland still winced and let out a hiss of pain in response to the contact.

"You know, there is no shame in admitting it still hurts. I know ribs don't mend so quickly." America commented seriously as he removed his hand.

"You didn't have to touch me there to prove your point." Northern Ireland gasped as he exhaled deeply through his nose, trying to will the pain away. America felt a spark of guilt of having caused Northern Ireland more unnecessary pain but he felt like he needed to address something else.

"You didn't have to snap like that at Ireland." America countered, crossing his arms over his chest.

Northern Ireland bit his lip uncomfortably and he muttered lowly, "How can you understand America? You have no idea how hard it is for me to trust to Ireland… do you know how many times he wished me dead when I was a plantation?"

"I don't suppose I would understand," America admitted reluctantly, "But I do understand that what you said to Ireland was harsh. You know that Ireland was very worried about you, everyone could see and even hear it in his voice. Both he and Scotland were probably still reeling from the dark voice's screaming but they still came to check on you."

The younger UK nation shifted awkwardly, unwilling to challenge America's words. He opted to change the subject instead. "You never answered my first question anyway. Who are you running from?"

"From Germany." America replied, grinning widely. "Everyone has scattered around the building and we're trying to see who can avoid Germany the longest before he makes us return to the main meeting. I've seen a few nations being caught bay Germany so it seems like the numbers are falling quickly."

Northern Ireland snorted at the idea before he winced. He shifted again into a more comfortable position, frowning downwards at his bruised abdomen. As America stared at Northern Ireland quietly, a question came to him.

"Hey North, why exactly did you want to meet the dark voice?"

The Irish avatar froze and his eyes widened. He cast a quick glance at the American before looking down at his hands again, avoiding eye contact. Northern Ireland hastily replied, "I… I was just curious!"

"Just curious?" America scoffed, "Come on Northern Ireland, there is me and maybe Scotland who are the only ones that have ever met the dark voice. Why would you want to be the third nation to come in contact with England's ego? Did you… dare yourself to do it?"

"Yes, yes, it was a dare to myself." Northern Ireland replied swiftly with a nervous mouth twitch that should have looked like a smile, making America suspect that it was more than a dare. Why would the younger UK nation want to meet the dark voice? To prove himself… but to whom? It kind of reminded of America when he was very young and he had met Canada for the first time. Whilst talking to each other, America had proudly mentioned of the time he had grabbed a bison and had swung it around as if it was a toy. He had declared to Canada that England had been greatly impressed by that and had praised him. A few days later, America had overheard England mumbling to himself as he tried to understand why Canada was attempting to pick a moose up even though he lacked the strength.

America turned to look at Northern Ireland curiously and he questioned, "Northern Ireland… were you trying to prove yourself to England? By meeting the dark voice, you wanted to show that you were as capable as Scotland and I?"

"Yes…?" Northern Ireland answered uncertainly, sound completely unconvincing.

That made America frown even more and he declared, "Northern Ireland, every time you answer me like that, I'll know that you're not telling the truth and I'll try to squeeze it out of you even more."

"Stop asking questions!" Northern Ireland shot back defensively, glaring at the American.

"But I want to know why!" America whined.

"Well, I don't want you to!" Northern Ireland countered, attempting to cross his arms over his chest but finding it too painful to carry it out. He eventually settled for turning towards the corner, showing his back to America.

America smirked widely, accepting the challenge. "Alright, so you wanted to prove yourself to Scotland."

No answer came from Northern Ireland.

"You wanted to prove yourself to Ireland then?"

Northern Ireland's shoulders became tense. That was a yes in America's book. But he still hadn't guessed the whole thing yet. America decided to continue pressing on. "You were trying to prove to Ireland that you're just as equal as he is?"

Judging by the lack of response, America supposed that wasn't it. America became thoughtful, trying to put himself in Northern Ireland's shoes. Hold on, how about putting Canada in Northern Ireland's shoes. Now, what linked Ireland, Northern Ireland and the dark voice together? Both Irish avatars knew of the dark voice's existence… but Ireland had never met the dark voice before. Northern Ireland tried to meet the dark voice… to be able to assert some dominance over Ireland by claiming a type of knowledge and experience that the elder Irish brother didn't possess?

…That sounded quite longwinded but America knew that Canada had sometimes attempted that when they had been colonies and it certainly wouldn't surprise him if Northern Ireland had just attempted something similar to that. He smiled crookedly as he guessed, "You wanted to make Ireland jealous by the fact that you've met the dark voice and he hasn't?"

Northern Ireland turned his head around to glower at America and he snapped, "Will you stop with the damn guesses?"

America grinned in satisfaction as he responded, "Don't need to guess anymore, I've gotten my answer."

"You couldn't be more wrong…" Northern Ireland grumbled as he turned to stare at his corner resolutely.

"That just proves that I'm right and I figured the truth out." America declared proudly, quite surprised by how well he had managed to figure it out. It helped to have a younger twin brother who was honest, America wouldn't have done so well otherwise.

The younger Irish avatar turned to glare resentfully at America and he growled, "You're an ass America."

"Thanks, asses happen to be very intelligent!" America exclaimed, grinning toothily at the astonished European avatar. Northern Ireland shook his head in desperation, no doubt wondering why he deserved to have America squeeze the truth out of him.

"Hey lads, can you be a bit louder?"

America looked up suddenly and let out another sigh of relief when he saw that it was Scotland who was sneaking into the room. Scotland shook his head as he approached both nations. "I can hear you two all the way at the top of the corridor. That is, you want Germany to hear and find you."

"Heh, I'll try to draw the fun out as long as possible." America responded cheerfully, making sure to not sound as loud as before.

Northern Ireland shrugged carefully and simply stated, "I didn't even know there was a game going on until you guys came along so I'm not really bothered if Germany does find us."

"So how're things out there? How many of us do you think are still roaming free?" America questioned Scotland curiously.

Scotland sat down in front of America and Northern Ireland as he replied, "It seems like Germany is a better tracker than we give him credit for. I wouldn't be surprised if he has rounded up a majority of us. I was with Canada and New Zealand and they walked right into Germany. Thankfully I had fallen back so I managed to escape Germany's attention but I suppose the two others had to go back to the meeting."

"Canada got caught? Well, he never was any good at hiding, he was always the seeker when I played that game with him." America laughed, quietening down when he was shushed by Scotland.

The door creaked open and all three nations looked up to see who it was, suspecting that it might be Germany. However, neither of the two nations who poked their heads from behind the door were Germany. It turned out to be Pakistan and England.

Pakistan frowned, "Are you guys even trying to hide from Germany? You sure are loud."

"I was trying to get America to be quieter, he was a lot louder before I came along." Scotland argued, turning to look back at America disapprovingly.

America pouted at the unfairness of it. "Hey, why am I getting all the blame for being loud? Northern Ireland and Scotland weren't very quiet either!"

"Yeah, but you're the one with the loudest voice from among us." Northern Ireland snickered before wincing in pain again. England frowned worriedly and he quickly made his way to Northern Ireland.

"North, are you alright?" England questioned hesitantly with a hint of fear in his voice, almost seeming like he didn't trust himself to touch Northern Ireland. That reaction didn't surprise America too much since Northern Ireland had been injured while still being in contact with England. But seeing England look so guilty made America's guts twist around uncomfortably, making him want to convince England that it wasn't his fault.

"I'm fine England, the bones are taking their time to mend but I am not in TOO much pain." Northern Ireland replied, smiling reassuringly at England. He then shot a warning glance at America as he added, "As long as no one touches me there, I'll be fine." America grinned ruefully at the younger UK nation and simply shrugged his shoulders.

Interested in changing the subject, America turned to look at England and he questioned, "How about you England, are you okay? That bruise of yours doesn't hurt too much hopefully?"

England looked down at his bruised wrist in disdain and he stated firmly, "That bruise is nothing compared to what happened to Northern Ireland. My bruise doesn't even hurt that much… I wished I had gotten the broken bones instead of North."

Northern Ireland, Scotland and America immediately frowned at that statement and they all simultaneously scolded, "Don't wish something like that England!" They were shushed by Pakistan who was standing close to the door, keeping a sharp eye in case someone opened the door. He gave them a look that clearly said "Can you guys be bit quieter?" but then he froze when the door creaked open again.

But it turned out to be Cornwall who was sneaking into the room, his head bent in apprehension. When he found himself almost nose to nose with the Pakistani, the Cornish avatar apologised, "Sorry for scaring you, we're running out of places to hide."

Pakistan let out a breath and he asked, "Are you alone?"

Cornwall shook his head and he looked behind him. He let out a small whistle and soon Ireland and Australia followed him into the room. Ireland was looking at Cornwall in surprise and he asked, "How in the world did you know we were following you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Cornwall smiled slyly but then he looked around and he spotted the nations who were sitting in the corner. Following his line of sight, Ireland and Australia also noticed the other nations.

Australia chuckled quietly, "Wow, we seem to have stumbled on quite a gathering here. Never thought there would be this many of us left."

"How about the rest of the nations?" Pakistan asked curiously.

"All caught by Germáin." Ireland answered, shutting the door behind him very quietly. "Germáin seems to have almost cleared out the floor below us, it's only a matter of time he comes up here and he'll find us."

"But there's still a floor upstairs, we can all move up and keep Germany guessing." Pakistan pointed out, looking at the other nations. After a brief consideration, most shook their heads.

"We've had our fun, let Germany find us." Scotland declared, smiling widely as Cornwall and Australia came to sit with the other nations.

Pakistan shook his head and he replied, "Well, I'm going to try and avoid the meeting as long as possible. I might even end up being the last nation left from this small meeting." Pakistan paused, considering the thought. Appearing to like it, he turned to the other nations and he said, "Have fun with the meeting, I'll go and hide some more." The Pakistani walked past Ireland and opened the door quietly, slipping out very swiftly and closing the door with a soft click.

Ireland looked back at the door and he snickered lightly, "For some of us, the fun just never stops." He then made his way over to the group of nations and that's when his eyes met with Northern Ireland's. Ever since Ireland's arrival, America had noticed that Northern Ireland was constantly glaring at him, his eyes full of mistrust. Ireland stared back at his younger brother quietly for a while, an uncomfortable silence descending on all the nations present. Then Ireland sighed and he asked simply, "Can you at least tell me where you got the idea from?"

"To meet the dark voice?" Northern Ireland questioned, still looking at Ireland suspiciously. Then he admitted, "I first got the idea when America met the dark voice but I wanted to do it even more when I heard that Scotland met it too…"

"Alba?" Ireland looked surprised by that. He turned to look at Scotland with questioning eyes. "When did you meet England's ego?"

Scotland now looked very uneasy by the question and he shifted awkwardly. He smiled rather anxiously as he answered, "Well, to prove my theory on keeping the dark voice at bay with positive memories, I did have to enter England's mind to show it to him…"

Ireland frowned even and he crossed his arms of his chest. He looked very suspicious now as he demanded, "Hold on a moment, how did you even guess that the ego's "kryptonite" might be positive memories? How were you convinced that nothing would happen to you if you entered England's mind to meet the dark voice?"

The Scot's smile became even more forced but he eventually seemed to give in, looking at Ireland almost fearfully. He sighed in defeat as he explained, "Ireland, I probably should just tell you the whole truth." Scotland stood up and motioned for Ireland that they walk to the other side of the meeting room, well out of earshot for the other nations. Ireland looked at Scotland sceptically but nonetheless, he followed his brother. The remaining nations stared after them, wondering what was going to happen.

"Uh, what's the big deal?" America finally asked quietly, looking at the other nations in the hopes that they knew more than him.

"Sounds like Scotland is going to be busted for something, though I have absolutely no clue what." Australia responded, shrugging his shoulders. He looked just as confused as America.

England though was biting his lower lip nervously. He sat down beside America's knees and seemed to lean against them, as if seeking protection. Confused by the reaction, America leaned forward and nudged England lightly in the shoulder. England turned his head to look at America, worry clearly written on his face.

"Do you know what's going on?" America questioned curiously, wondering what the heck was going on.

The Brit nodded after a moment and he whispered, "I know well, all too well, of what's going on. And I'm scared of what will happen."

"Did I get Scotland in trouble?" Northern Ireland asked, seeming troubled as well. When he saw England nod his head uncertainly, he stuttered, "I-I didn't actually mean for that to happen…"

The door creaked open once more and this time, it was Germany who strode in. He looked to his left and spotted the group of nations almost huddled in the corner of the meeting room. Already frowning darkly, Germany walked over to the nations and he towered over them menacingly. "Finally I'm starting to catch up with the last of you. Do you know how difficult it was to go through the entire building hunting you all down? Do you think this is a game?"

"We're sorry Germany, there was an accident with Northern Ireland and England and both were hurt. They ran off in two directions and we went after them to calm them down." Cornwall explained hastily, looking quite fearful of the angry German nation.

Germany frowned in confusion in response to the explanation. He noted, "Some of the previous nations that I sent back to the meeting said something similar but I didn't believe them because I thought that they were only excuses to avoid coming back to the meeting. How badly hurt are they?"

"I'm perfectly okay to be honest," England answered uneasily but before he could add anything else, America interjected.

"…Physically speaking, in England's case." America turned his attention to Northern Ireland and he clarified, "However North here, some of his ribs were broken." To underline his point, America carefully pulled Northern Ireland's shirt upwards to reveal the Irish avatar's bruised abdomen. Northern Ireland slapped America's hand away, looking very annoyed by the American. America smiled before looking at the other end of the room, curious to see what was happening to Scotland and Ireland. Scotland seemed to be explaining something and Ireland was beginning to look quite alarmed. What exactly was being told?

But Germany had seen enough to be convinced. He shook his head as he apologised, "I'm very sorry, I wasn't aware of what had happened. I'm still not entirely sure what went on in the smaller meeting and I hope that one of you will explain to me after the end of the main meeting." Germany looked around at the nations, his eyes narrowing when he spotted Cornwall's bruised neck as well.

"YOU DID WHAT?" Ireland suddenly yelled from the other side of the room. Germany and the other nations all turned to look what was going on. Ireland was staring at Scotland in horror, shaking his head as he took a few steps backwards.

"I'm really sorry Ireland, please don't be angry-" Scotland apologised pleadingly, shrinking back at Ireland's rage.

"YOU…! How, how could you… you promised-never betray, how can YOU… do this to me?" Ireland was completely beside himself, clearly upset by what he had just been told by the Scot.

"Ireland please, calm down a second and listen," Scotland pleaded helplessly, walking towards Ireland and trying to calm the elder brother down. But Ireland shook his head fiercely and he violently shoved Scotland away from him, causing Scotland to almost crash into some chairs.

America leapt to his feet and he and Germany were quickly making their way to Scotland and Ireland, fearing that the Irish nation might attack the Scot. Ireland spun around to face them, his eyes wide. Looking around wildly, Ireland backed away from the approaching American and German and he fled through the open door. Scotland stared after Ireland and attempted to go after his brother.

However, Germany blocked his path. Scotland snapped impatiently, "Germany, I couldn't give a rat's ass about your precious meetings. I have more important things to tend to. LET me through, I have to find Ireland."

"Scotland, it wouldn't be wise to go after Ireland when he's still like this. I know how older brothers get when they're upset and I wouldn't be surprised if Ireland lashed out at you if you tried apologising to him now." Germany advised slowly, trying to calm the Scot down. Though Scotland looked unconvinced at first and he looked like he was going to try and sidestep the German and go after Ireland after all, he eventually sighed and stepped away from Germany.

"I've messed things up very badly…" Scotland mumbled guiltily, looking quite miserable. He soon found himself surrounded by the other nations, even Northern Ireland had stood up to approach Scotland. England grasped Scotland's hand, trying to get Scotland to look down at him. Scotland briefly looked down at England and then he met the gazes of Northern Ireland, Cornwall and Australia. He sighed unhappily and closed his eyes tightly.

Germany shifted awkwardly, clearly at loss at what he should say or do. He looked at Northern Ireland carefully and he asked, "Are your bones healed yet?" Northern Ireland looked surprised in being addressed by the German nation and he shook his head in response to the question. Germany concluded, "Alright, Northern Ireland is excused from the meeting and England and Cornwall can accompany him back to the hotel so that he can get the proper rest he needs for the ribs to heal correctly. As for you America, Australia and Scotland… I suggest that you three come back to the main meeting." Just as it looked like Scotland was going to protest, Germany cut him off sharply, "Scotland, your brother needs some time to calm down and collect his thoughts. He won't accept your apology before that. I think it'd be good for you to wait a while."

"It doesn't matter anyway, Ireland hates me…" Scotland muttered quietly, looking angry with himself.

America felt the strong need to comfort Scotland and he declared, "Scotland, coming from me and Australia as elder brothers, I swear to you that Ireland doesn't hate you, he's just very upset. He'll calm down eventually, you'll see."

"You have no idea just how badly I hurt him…" Scotland mumbled, sounding downhearted.

Australia smiled comfortingly as patted Scotland on the shoulder, "Certainly not so bad that it is unforgiveable."

"Yeah," America agreed enthusiastically, "All that is needed is some time, trust me."

Germany nodded as he started herding the nations to the door. "Alright, you three head back to the meeting, England and Cornwall, accompany Northern Ireland back to the hotel and I… will find the last stragglers I suppose." Germany sighed tiredly at that last sentence.

* * *

After two hours of the meeting had passed, Germany stood up to carry out the last speech to conclude the meeting. Germany had finally herded up all the nations from the smaller meeting, even Pakistan had been finally discovered. Despite that, Germany still had the feeling that he was missing at least one nation. India had whispered to America that it was Bangladesh who had somehow managed to escape the German nation's attention. India barely managed to suppress her giggles, much to Germany's annoyance.

America smiled as he noticed that the meeting was almost over, he was so bored that it almost drove him nuts. It probably didn't help much that Scotland kept fidgeting a few chairs down. America understood the source of Scotland's worries, but he still failed to understand how bad it could really be. Brothers always had some fights, it wasn't that unusual. Hey, in some of the rarer times, Canada had even been angry enough to lash out at America and try to punch him. It was no big deal really.

So why was Scotland acting as if he had declared war on Ireland? Things couldn't be that bad… America sighed quietly and he tried to think of something else. His thoughts went to England and he wondered how the Brit was doing right now. It was, in America's opinion, mighty unfair that Germany hadn't allowed America to skive the meeting off. America would have preferred being with England than being dragged back to the meeting. America was still worried over what had happened with the dark voice.

It truly shocked him that the dark voice was capable of inflicting physical damage on another nation. Thank the heavens that America didn't fall victim to England's ego…

But… what exactly did that make the dark voice? Was it an ego with dark magic? Was it using England's magic? Did that mean that the dark voice was in actual fact a demon that had possessed England all those centuries ago?

Alright, alright… clearly thinking down that road was just making America more nervous and his desire to check on England grew larger. So… blank mind? America didn't even really know how to reach that state of mind… oh if only something interesting could happen right now! Could something at least come crashing through the doors?

Right at the moment, the large doors of the meeting were thrown open, causing everyone to snap out of their haze of boredom and look who had opened the doors so vigorously. And who walked in was none other than… Prussia.

…How the heck did Prussia manage to break out of the hotel room? Once again, one might add.

"Hey hey, seems like I came in just in time for the end of the meeting! Anyone miss me? Meeting wasn't too boring?" The Prussian grinned widely, earning himself from some of the nations a groan of exasperation. There was no stopping Prussia, wasn't there?

Germany looked literally so shocked that his notes almost fell out of his hands. He spluttered incomprehensively, "H-how did you… how did you get… I… I handcuffed you to the verdammte BED! Explain to me how you got out of them. Did you bring a chainsaw with you or something?" None of the nations dared ask where does handcuffs had come from, no one was too sure they wanted to hear the answer.

"Hah, the handcuffs never stood a chance against my Prussian awesomeness! Although I did have to pull the bed around to find a way out of those handcuffs… I have to give you that Germany, those were pretty good quality handcuffs. They were just not amazing enough to stop me." Prussia smirked impishly, Germany silently fuming at him.

"Next time I'll put you in a damn cage in my basement and chain you!" Germany threatened furiously, the German nation looked uncontrollably enraged. His neighbours slowly inched away from him in fear.

"Uh, doesn't that kind of go against his rights?" America pointed out uncertainly, wondering if it was wise to say something like that when Germany was in such a murderous mood.

"Ja, my buddy Amerika here is completely right!" Prussia exclaimed as he quickly moved over to sling an arm around America's shoulder, grinning widely at the younger German nation. "How can you do that to your very own Bruder?"

"Preußen…" Germany growled warningly, closing his eyes tightly as he massaged his temples. He looked like he was two straws away from exploding in rage and chase after the Prussian.

"Please don't throw me out of the meeting!" Prussia quickly shouted, his grin becoming more nervous as he saw Germany actually take the notion into consideration.

Just as Germany was about to say the order Prussia really didn't want to hear, Italy asked cheerfully, "But can't Prussia stay since we're nearly at the end of our meeting? He's not doing anything wrong."

"Not yet!" Germany muttered darkly, glowering at Prussia. Prussia looked at Italy with hopeful eyes and Italy looked at Germany pleadingly. Germany seemed to falter slightly at Italy's stare, looking uncertainly at the carefree nation. He looked thoughtful for a few minutes before looking at Prussia sternly

"Fine, but let me finish this meeting without ANY interruptions from you. If I hear the tiniest noise from you, you'll be out of the meeting before you can blink twice. Is that understood?" Germany finally said firmly, looking at his older brother wearing the expression "you better not make me regret this".

Prussia brightened up immediately and backed away so that he was leaning against the wall, settling down to watch the meeting proceed without any further complaint. That in itself was strange to America, Prussia hadn't even demanded to have someone give up their chair for his awesome self. Germany gazed at Prussia suspiciously before beginning his final speech to adjourn the meeting.

America cast a quick glance behind him, his eyes also questioning. Usually Prussia would have already caused a fight trying to get a seat or would have already gotten a few nations irritated by his "I'm awesome" comments. Prussia really wanted something if he was content with simply leaning against the wall and waiting patiently for the meeting to end.

Germany's speech continued without any interruptions, every nation eager with the meeting ending so that they had the rest of the remaining afternoon free to relax and be with friends. Everyone kept quiet until Germany had finally concluded that the meeting was finished for today.

With almost a sigh of elation, the nations started standing up and chatting amongst each other, deciding what they wanted to do now that they had been freed of the meeting. America stood up and looked behind him, seeing Prussia lean away from the wall and walk towards them.

The American looked at Prussia quizzically before asking, "Alright Prussia, what's the deal? Usually you would have totally crashed the meeting in five minutes flat. What is it?"

Prussia grinned and shrugged nonchalantly, "I had to stay low and not piss West off more than necessary. Or else he would have really put me in a cage next time. Anyway, I've been wanting to do something fun and I wanted to talk to some of you guys to see how many of you are in."

"Oh?" America's curiosity was piqued. Usually when Prussia said he wanted to do "something fun" it either meant something really stupid or actually something pretty cool. He asked, "What did you have in mind?"

The Prussian grinned widely at that and leaned forward to whisper into America's ear, "Wanna do a horror marathon with me?"

"Horror marathon?" America echoed, feeling quite confused. Alright, what in the world was that supposed to be? A race to see who could run the fastest if they were running for their lives? America wasn't sure he was understanding Prussia's intent.

Prussia laughed when he saw America's puzzled expression and he elaborated, "It's basically a bunch of us gathering together at night and watching the scariest movies in existence. And we'll make a game out of it and see who manages to watch those movies without running out of the room or screaming. Doesn't that sound fun?"

"H-horror movies?" America stuttered out hesitantly, a bit taken aback by Prussia's idea. N-not that he was afraid of horror movies or anything! But he really hadn't expected Prussia of all people to propose it.

"Ja, what's the point of going to a bar, getting pissed drunk and waking up with a hangover the next morning? We can do that anytime, anywhere! So I thought I could gather up a few nations and watch some horror movies and see who's the bravest and who'll be the first one out of the room. It'll give all of us a good adrenaline rush and who doesn't enjoy a good horror movie?" Prussia explained excitedly and then he smirked, "Are you in then? Or are you too much of a coward?"

America bristled and shot back, "Who said coward? I'm no coward! You better start eating your own words! I'm the hero here so I can totally watch horror movies without getting scared!"

Prussia quirked an eyebrow and snickered, "We'll see about that. So, what's your final answer?"

"Count me in!" America stated, puffing his cheeks in annoyance and determination. Prussia grinned triumphantly and then he turned to Canada who was still sitting, rearranging his pages into his folder.

"What about you, are you in as well?" Prussia asked Canada eagerly.

Canada started at being addressed and turned his head to look at Prussia uncertainly, "Me? I'm not too sure, I'm not very fond of horror movies…"

"Come on Canada, you're no scaredy cat!" America exclaimed, slapping Canada on his shoulder encouragingly. Canada winced and America realized he had forgotten his strength again.

"Well… I could come and watch for a little bit I suppose." Canada said doubtfully, rubbing his shoulder while grimacing at the pain. Both America and Prussia perked up and simultaneously slapped Canada on his shoulders. The poor Canadian could only wince again at the double slap.

"Alright, I'll go and gather more nations for tonight. See you later in West's hotel room!"

Prussia was just about to leave when America called out, "Wait Prussia, how did you manage to get Germany's permission to use his room? Who else will be coming? Where are you going to get the movies from?"

Prussia turned around and smiled happily, "I'm sure West will let me use his room since I didn't crash the meeting and he will probably be off to a bar tonight. We can get any horror movie we want off the internet so no need to worry about that! I'll try getting as many nations as possible, the more the merrier. I might even try to get England, though I'm sure he won't turn down the offer." At that last part, Prussia winked at the American and he walked off in search of other nations.

America dearly hoped that he was not blushing. Oh no, heroes did not blush so easily! Canada seemed to suppress his laughter at America's attempt to hide his blush but then he grew serious. Canada asked hesitantly, "But do you think England will come?"

"Why not, the old England liked horror movies! A-and since this England is not different from the old England, he'll like horror movies too!" America answered, trying to sound confident.

Canada however shook his head as he said, "I didn't mean the part of him not liking horror movies or not… I'm more worried about the fact that it will be Prussia who will be asking England to come along."

"But Prussia and England are good friends…" America pointed out uncertainly.

"There is a difference now… who reminded England of the negative emotions of the American Revolution? Does England still remember? I'm just concerned over that…" Canada explained, seeming thoughtful.

"Good point," America agreed unwillingly, he hadn't thought about that. He brightly offered, "We can go to England's hotel room and ask him ourselves! He can then come with us!" America then looked around him at the remaining nations and he noticed that Scotland was already gone. Whatever was going on between Scotland and Ireland, America wished Scotland good luck.

"Yeah, that's a great idea." Canada affirmed, smiling at his brother. He then briefly frowned and asked, "Just a last thing… Prussia said that he was going to get the movies off the internet… is that legal?"

America couldn't help but burst out laughing at the question.

* * *

Back in the hotel, England, Cornwall and Northern Ireland had left the hotel room in favour of getting some fresh air. They had walked over to sit at some couches that showed a rather splendid view of New Delphi. Cornwall managed to open one of the windows and all the avatars settled down to talk.

Well, Cornwall and England did most of the talking. Northern Ireland spent most of his time lying on his back on one of the couches and listening to the two others as he allowed his body to mend the broken ribs. He felt some stinging pain now and again as his body tried to set the ribs correctly.

After a while, Cornwall began to chuckle at something and the chuckle eventually grew into a laugh. When England asked what he found funny, the Cornish avatar explained, "I just noticed something… we could call ourselves "the bruised brothers". We all have bruises somewhere on us."

England looked at his bruised wrist and then he stared at Cornwall and Northern Ireland. He laughed in agreement to that.

"Hey England!"

Both nation and county turned around in surprise, not entirely recognizing the voice who was calling out England's name. However England quickly recognized the ex-nation who was approaching them. England slid down from the couch and walked to meet the Prussian. The island nation immediately narrowed his eyes distrustfully, he clearly remembered that Prussia had been somehow responsible for him getting the memory of the revolution back. And on top of that, Prussia was quite adept at creating chaos. What did he want from the Brit?

As Prussia finally reached England, the German nation noticed England's expression. He winced, "Aua, not a very welcoming greeting. You do know who I am, right?"

"Of course, you're Prussia." England answered guardedly, keeping a wary eye on Prussia. Cornwall and Northern Ireland poked their heads from behind the couch, watching the two other avatars intently.

Prussia grinned sheepishly, "So… err, you still remember what happened back at America's party?"

"Yes." England responded tonelessly.

"Oh come on, you won't hold a grudge against me just because of that! Will you?" Prussia joked lightly but then his face fell and he scratched his head, looking apologetic, "Hey look, I'm sorry for back then. I thought I was helping you, I didn't think it would have turned out so bad."

England felt sorely tempted to reply with a snarky comment but he held himself back for a moment. Prussia seemed genuinely sorry and had apologised to England. He should give the Prussian the benefit of an attempt, however late it came.

The Brit sighed and willed himself to relax and appear less hostile. He looked at Prussia and asked, "What do you want?"

Prussia seemed to look happier at the question, glad that his apology was sort of accepted by the Brit. At least England seemed willing to give Prussia a chance and listen to him. Prussia proceeded to explain excitedly what he was planning tonight.

"Horror movies?" England asked doubtfully, looking at Prussia wondering if he was serious. When England thought about it, he wasn't sure what he thought about horror movies. They seemed to ring a bell in his mind but he wasn't certain if it was a positive or negative ring.

Prussia laughed, "Sure, you used to watch a lot of them once! And it's really going to be a fun game seeing who will hold out the most and who will run out of the room screaming!"

"No one will get hurt?" England asked sharply, wanting to ensure that this was only a scare game and nothing else.

"Absolutely no one!" Prussia exclaimed, but then he became thoughtful, "But I had this one idea… I'll need you for it to work…," Prussia looked up from England and stared at Cornwall and Northern Ireland contemplatively. He murmured, "Actually, I could also use both of you for my plan…"

"And just what do you plan to use us for?" Northern Ireland demanded defensively, looking at Prussia warily.

"We won't agree to it until we know exactly what you want to do." England warned, immediately set on refusing whatever idea Prussia was going to come up with. He didn't trust the Prussian enough yet.

"Ach England, it won't hurt anyone." Prussia complained, wanting England to hear him out. "Listen, this might shock or scare some of the nations but it's just really a little bonus for tonight and it would be really awesome if you could all play along."

"Tell us at least what your idea is about." England sighed defeatedly, there was no stopping this German ex-nation, was there?

Prussia grinned triumphantly at England's response and crouched lower, beginning to whisper his idea into England's ear. Both Cornwall and Northern Ireland leaned over the couch, trying to hear what was being said. England furrowed his eyebrows before his eyes widened with surprise. The idea actually didn't sound that bad… maybe he should give it a try. It didn't sound very harmful at least.

"So, you in?" Prussia asked eagerly.

After a moment of consideration, England supposed there wouldn't be much harm in going along with the Prussian. He shrugged and replied, "I don't see anything wrong with the idea… but tell Cornwall and Northern Ireland your idea as well so that they can decide whether they want to do it or not."

England hoped that he was doing the right thing in trusting the ex-nation.

* * *

"Ireland, where are you?" Scotland wondered out loud as he wandered up and down the darkened streets of New Delphi. Scotland had absolutely no idea where he could find his elder brother. Back home, all Scotland had to do was check all the pubs and he would eventually find Ireland in one of them. But pubs were not so popular in India apparently, or Scotland was not very good at finding them.

But Scotland continued believing that Ireland had to be somewhere where booze was available. The Scot knew the Irish avatar far too well. Ireland's best way of dealing with his anger, depression, grief or any other negative emotion was to drink it away. Ireland wasn't going to change that habit now. Meanwhile, Scotland's gut continued twisting itself around guiltily. Scotland wished he hadn't told Ireland about how he had betrayed one of Ireland's darkest secrets. But how could Scotland have avoided this? Ireland had practically left him no means to brush him off and tell a small lie…

Out of the corner of his eye, Scotland spotted what looked like a possible pub. The name "Dublin" was a good indicator at least. It was rather well sheltered and hidden away from the street but Scotland had little doubt that he would find Ireland in there. Scotland sighed quietly as he made his way over to the pub, feeling quite nervous about finding Ireland inside. He wanted to find Ireland and yet at the same time he wanted to completely avoid Ireland. He felt like a kid in trouble again, knowing full well that he had done something wrong and Ireland was pissed off at him.

Well, what was the worst Ireland could do… other than punch him? Problem was, Ireland was a good puncher and Scotland certainly did not feel like fighting. Not now. There were more important things to discuss and he needed Ireland's help. Now was not the time to fight and ignore the discovery of today. They had to help England! Scotland had a growing concern that he knew what was ailing England… at least he suspected the possible origin of that blasted dark voice!

Scotland just hesitated for a few seconds in front of the pub before opening the door. As he strode in, his green eyes scanned the room to spot the ginger hair of his brother. The pub was thankfully not completely full and it had a rather relaxed atmosphere to it.

A glimpse of ginger got Scotland's attention and he turned to find that Ireland was, predictably, at the bar with a bottle of beer clutched in one hand. Scotland took a deep breath and walked towards the Irish nation, mentally preparing himself for a possible onslaught of Irish swears and curses.

Once he was close enough to Ireland, Scotland reached out hesitantly and laid a hand on Ireland's shoulder. Ireland's reaction was quite sluggish but the moment his eyes focussed on the Scot, they hardened and Ireland spat venomously, "Leave me alone ghile mear!"

"Are you that drunk?" Scotland asked, sounding stunned and flustered at the same time. It was really his luck that the only way to check how drunk Ireland was was to see how he called Scotland. At least Ireland was on stage one only. Next stage, Ireland would be adding "mo" to "ghile mear" and stage three, he would start singing the song. At least "ghile mear" only meant "gallant darling", it could be more embarrassing. Still, Scotland would always get embarrassed when Ireland would start saying "mo ghile mear" since that basically meant "my gallant darling". And Ireland himself was never aware of that until he sobered up.

Ireland was muttering angrily to himself by now, plainly trying to ignore Scotland who was right beside him. Scotland sighed and he nudged Ireland. "Look, I know you're angry with me but now's not the time to get drunk. We have a serious issue at our hands."

"Deal with it yourself!" Ireland barked angrily, taking a swig of his beer bottle. He wrinkled his nose in distaste and he muttered, "This beer is absolutely shit."

"Then why drink it?" Scotland questioned exasperatedly, trying to sneakily move the bottle out of Ireland's grasp.

Sadly, Ireland tightened his grip on the bottle and he glared at Scotland. "There's nothing else…," Ireland replied grumpily, emptying the last contents of his bottle. He then yelled at the bartender, "Oi, fetch me 'nother bottle!"

The bartender looked at Ireland disapprovingly and he replied politely, "I think you've had quite enough sir, I doubt you'd even be able to stand after all those bottles you've had."

"Do I look like I care?" Ireland sneered, banging his fist on the wood impatiently.

Scotland sighed and attempted to get Ireland to stand up. He said calmly, "Come on Ire- er, I mean Connor, we better get back to the hotel now. You've had more than your fill." God it was strange for Scotland to use Ireland's human name, he was so used to calling Ireland by his real name.

Ireland glowered at Scotland and he shrugged Scotland's hand off, snapping furiously, "Leave me be already!" Growling under his breath, Ireland slid off the bar stool and with only a slight wobble, started making his way out of the pub, mumbling angrily under his breath.

The Scot turned back briefly to see that the bartender was gaping at Ireland, seemingly unable to believe his eyes. The bartender shook his head, completely at loss. "How can he even stand, I've lost count of the bottles he emptied…?"

"Err, he's Irish. Years of experience and all that," Scotland laughed awkwardly, leaving the astonished bartender behind. Ireland was already stumbling out of the pub by the time Scotland caught up with him. Once both nations were out in the cold night, Scotland turned to look at his brother. Just to find hat Ireland was walking away from him.

"Ireland, you're going in the wrong direction. The hotel is the other way." Scotland called after Ireland, hurrying to catch up with his elder brother.

"I don't want to go back to the hotel." Ireland snapped in annoyance, casting a resentful glance at Scotland. He wobbled slightly but after steadying himself, he continued walking.

Scotland frowned and he went after Ireland, falling in step with the Irish avatar. He sighed, "Ireland, I know you're really angry with me but can't you put it aside for a while? We really need to pay attention to this dark voice, I think there's more to it than we first assumed."

"I don't care!" Ireland yelled, refusing to make eye contact with Scotland. "You betrayed me, that's all that matters to me."

"I didn't really betray you," Scotland protested helplessly, "I gave you my word I would never tell anyone of it. I didn't. I showed it instead."

"That makes it ten times worse!" Ireland growled fiercely, turning his head to look at Scotland. His eyes seemed to be a mixture of fury, pain and grief in his eyes. He huffed loudly and he closed his eyes tightly, looking like he was trying to hold his tears back.

"Ireland, I swear that England doesn't think less of you. The memory actually helped him understand that-" Before Scotland could finish his sentence, Ireland grabbed him by the front shirt and shoved him backwards, pinning him to the wall. Scotland closed his eyes tightly in response to the expected punch that would eventually come.

After a few seconds of nothing coming, Scotland opened one eye warily to see what was going on. Ireland's fist was raised, poised for attack, but Ireland himself did not seem entirely sure if he wanted to strike. After a few more moments, Ireland let out a frustrated growl and he released Scotland from his grip, turning to walk away from the stunned Scot.

Recovering from the fact that Ireland actually had resisted punching him, Scotland went after Ireland and he demanded, "Why didn't you punch me?"

"…It's not worth it if you won't even try to defend yourself." Ireland mumbled lowly, looking down at the ground.

"Look, if you want to punch me to feel less angry, do it! But I need your help and England needs it too and we need to have you focussed. So go on, punch me as hard as you can. I don't even care if I get black eye from this." Scotland declared loudly, moving to stand in front of Ireland and blocking his path.

Ireland looked up to meet Scotland's eyes and his own narrowed dangerously. He tried pushing Scotland aside and he snapped, "No, leave me alone. I won't punch you and I won't come back to the hotel. Just leave me with my memories…"

"No!" Scotland shouted angrily, grabbing Ireland's shoulders and shoving him against the wall. Scotland burst out exasperatedly, "Ireland, the dark voice can use the bloodlines!"

That seemed to snap Ireland out of his state of self-pity and he blinked in confusion at his younger brother. All Ireland could say was a shaky "W-what?"

Scotland explained impatiently, "The dark voice. It knows how to use and move through the bloodlines. Ours to be more specific. It went from England into Northern Ireland and it broke North's ribs from the inside. How many creatures do you know of who can do this?"

"It's not a question of how many, it's more the question of what type of creatures can do that…" Ireland mumbled uneasily, seeming to realize what Scotland was talking about it.

"Certainly a simple ego can't pull this off. There is no way it should have that ability to move through the bloodlines and affect the others. We shouldn't have heard it scream, but we did. I bet even Wales, Brittany and Isle of Man heard it too." Scotland declared firmly, not relaxing his grip on Ireland's shoulders.

"But… it means that this dark voice… you actually mean that it could be…" Ireland trailed off hesitantly, his eyes widening even more. He frowned disbelievingly, "But Sasana wouldn't have been that senseless, he would have been too afraid to approach them in the first place!"

"But we never feared them enough to stay away. We've been almost constantly in contact with them when we were younger. I think there's a good chance that it could be… but I need your help so that we can be sure…," Scotland said quietly, looking at Ireland fearfully. "Is the dark voice of the mounds?"

Ireland looked shocked beyond anything else, shaking his head more at himself, replying, "If that thing really is of the mounds… then we seriously are sorry brothers for never noticing that one of our own siblings has harboured one all these years."

* * *

**A/N:**

Umm... not such a cruel cliffhanger? ^^; Oh, it's still a cliffhanger but it won't kill ya! It really depends on your knowledge on the people of the mounds and even then, you'll still not be able to know how the dark voice is linked to them. But yeah, England's ego is showing some unusual characteristics and abilities that a normal ego should not possess.

Anyway, you know those books or films where there are two characters and one is forced to reveal that they've somehow betrayed the other? ...Don't we just dislike those scenarios? I've tried it with Ireland and Scotland, I have no clue how successful I was. But there is one thing I refused to do, and that's to keep you guys on edge and making you wonder again and again whether Ireland will ever talk to Scotland again. At least I tried to imply that a type of truce had been reached. Ireland is still quite upset, but Scotland's words have managed to pull him out of the self-pity zone and make him consider the important current matters.

Some of you may be wondering, why is Ireland making such a big deal out of this and why did he flip out on Scotland? It isn't really because Ireland is reminded of what he did (though that plays a pretty important part as well) but what really made him lose it is the fact the Scotland allowed England to see Ireland's worst side: As a kinslayer. Slaying kin was taken very seriously in medieval Ireland if the books I read are anything to go by. Most recorded cases of kinslaying had one brother killing another brother. The law usually demanded that the kinslayer pay a huge fine to the closest relative and if there wasn't enough money or the kinslayer refused to accept the punishment, he would be usually put in a boat with one oar and with enough food and water to last two days and he would drift out into the sea. If the sea brought the kinslayer back to Irish shore, the first person who saw him was allowed to make him their slave. I think it would have hit Ireland very badly of having Pictland manipulate him into committing one of the most heinous crimes of medieval Irish society. I've got to say, Pictland is very sneaky. Even more than I gave her credit for. O_o

Oh yeah, if anyone is wondering, England is roughly the age appearance of a 7-8 years old. Sorry for being vague but thanks to the constant cross-contamination with me learning the metric system, the learning the system the Americans and then switching back to the metric system, it was inevitable that I would be unable to propoerly visualise the measurements. So sorry for the mild confusion. I also seem to have some issues with the time... I think we're roughly in the first going into the second week of November. ^^ What year? Oh dear... 2011 or 2012. I don't know, I'm going slow enough to have the real time catch up with me. XD

Did anyone notice the horror movie theme that I had going on throughout the chapter? England and Northern Ireland kind of play the typical duo in a horror movie where England just wants to get the heck out of the place and Northern Ireland sort of wants to try his luck even further. And boy did it end badly for Northern Ireland. Oh yeah, if you guys were wondering who the dogs were, the Irish setters represent the Irish republicans (IRA and all the others) and the English bulldogs represent the Ulster loyalists (UVF, UDA, etc.). During the Troubles, the dogs were very violent and practically hounded Northern Ireland weekly. Everytime one of them managed to bite Northern Ireland, a bomb would explode somewhere in Northern Ireland and if a dog managed to draw blood, the bomb ultimately would cause fatalities. Northern Ireland refers to the dogs as his "demons" as it isn't very certain whether these dogs were ever real or imagined. England and Ireland have had their encounters with those dogs but no one else seems to be able to confirm that the dogs are real. So for the moment, they're classified as illusions, though their bites are more than real enough for poor Northern Ireland. (if you guessed, North really isn't a dog person due to that)

Alright, did I redeem Pakistan a bit? ^^; It was pointed out to me that I was a bit too harsh on his characterisation so I tried dropping his aggressiveness down a notch. I suppose he could be a bit similar to Molossia, rather nice but becomes a bit of a jerk when there are more nations. Hopefully his characterisation makes more sense now, I'm sorry if I insulted anyone. ^^

Another note, there is one very good reason why Northern Ireland is very distrustful of Ireland. When Northern Ireland started out as the Ulster plantation, Ireland was furious over the fact that England (and later Scotland) started creating plantations all over on his lands. The Ulster plantation was created by both Scotland and England, much to Ireland's distaste and anger. His anger grew more when England and Scotland started treating the plantation as a brother of theirs and to put it simply, Ireland grew resentful of the Ulster plantation. Ireland and England had a fight over him and England, feeling particularly annoyed and frustrated by the Irish nation, decided to scare Ireland and tell him that the Ulster plantation would one day come to replace Ireland. Now... what happens when you tell something like that to a nation who originally had no problem eliminating "potential rivals"? Yeah. That's the reason why Northern Ireland finds it difficult to trust Ireland fully in dangerous situations and he feels very uneasy when someone even wraps their arm around his neck.

...Alright, did I cover everything? I think I did... well then, I hope that you enjoyed the chapter despite the wait and I hope you're looking forward to the next chapter! ^^ (scary movies and nations hugging the lights out of each other coming up!)(oh, please don't judge my taste in movies too harshly)


	44. Chapter 43

Hey everyone! ^^ Finally managed to complete another chapter, sorry for taking so long. I kind of like and at the same time, I feel a bit "meh" about this chapter. There are some parts I like better than other parts but I suppose that's normal. Just a disclaimer, please don't judge my taste in horror movies. I haven't concentrated on them too much in case I might be spoiling one to someone so in a way, this story arc functions to mention the horror movies that I've seen (not all, just the ones that have left a mark, whether good or bad) and possibly get some of you interested in looking those movies up if you've never seen them. The movie titles I mention are not all amazing, but they are in my opinion worth checking out. The selection of the nations who participate in the horror marathon are not random, I've been looking up on countries that are known for making many horror movies. Heck, I somehow ended up reading on the shaky relationship between Thailand and Cambodia as well... yeah, I don't know how I do this. Research brings me all over the place and in the end, I only use about 25% of what I've researched. ^^;

Since I have finished exams and all, I am officialy on holidays now. *fist pump* But to stop me from lazing about, my mother has ordered me to go work for the local vet, which isn't bad at all as I actually enjoy helping the vet out. (but trust me, it is very tiring and I work 6 days a week) In terms of updating this story, I don't think it is my job with the vet that will cause a problem... it's more my father. Ever since I've returned home from Scotland, my father has been trying to spend every single second with me. I know that my mother leaving him must have been a harsh blow, mixing in my departure to the uni and the death of his last parent, but he's just... very draining. He literally drains me of all my emotional energy, leaving me hollow and empty while he skips off happily. My parents are not officialy divorced and yet my father admits that he has been trying to find a replacement for my mother and has met over 20 women in one year since my mother left. And he has slept with about 3 of them. But he doesn't think he's unfaithful because he didn't do it out of love. Try understanding that logic. *sigh*

Well alright, let's leave this depressing stuff. Just an update to say that I'm still kicking and alive, a bit emotionally drained, but otherwise surviving. I'll go to my mother's place at the beginning of July and then I'll go to Croatia for a week. So life goes on and we'll see how things go. :) Enjoy the chapter, I hope you all like it! ^^

* * *

Chapter 43

_-A few hours earlier-_

Wales was in the kitchen preparing breakfast when he heard the angry shriek crash into his mind. The Welsh nation cried out in pain as the scream almost seemed to break his eardrums, making him fall on his knees and hold his head tightly. The scream lasted a few excruciating seconds, causing Wales' ears to throb painfully.

Once the scream had faded away inside Wales' mind, the nation felt his blood literally run cold. That screech… who was it for? Why had the scream been so loud and painful? It couldn't be that the deaths were starting again! Who was in danger? Who was going to die?

Looking around him wildly and fearfully, Wales instinctively crawled to sit under the table, wishing that the pounding in his head and the pounding in his heart would stop. He took a few shallows breaths, trying to calm himself down. He couldn't lose his mind now, if the scream had indeed come from a banshee, Wales had to quickly figure out who the banshee was crying for. Who was the most likely to have a brush with death…?

England?

…Had something happened at the World Meeting? Was something horrible going to happen to England? B-but Ireland, Scotland and Cornwall were there! Surely no harm could come to the English nation!

Could it?

Feeling something tickling the lobe of his right ear, Wales raised his hand to brush away whatever the nuisance was. When his fingers touched something wet, Wales retracted his hand and looked at his fingers incredulously. Blood. There was blood on his fingers. The scream had been loud enough to perforate his ear drum!

Quickly checking that his left ear wasn't bleeding as well, Wales slightly shook his head and hummed to see how bad the tear was in his right ear. He winced as he felt a small sting of pain in his right ear, but the sound seemed to be just slightly fuzzy. The tear couldn't be too bad then, it would heal quickly.

But what worried Wales more was the scream itself. Had the banshee predicted England's death? Or who else was the banshee crying for? Wales couldn't think of anyone else in the family who was in bad shape recently. There was no possible way that a nation's health could have deteriorated so quickly. The last time Wales had heard the banshee, he had been certain of who was going to die because the avatar in question had been weakening for years.

Remembering that his phone was on the table, Wales raised his arm from underneath the table and grabbed his phone. He quickly wrote a text message to Ireland, Scotland and Cornwall, demanding to know if something had happened to any of them at the World Meeting. There was no other explanation, the scream had to be connected to them.

After the messages had been sent, Wales sat under the table for a few more minutes, trying to gather his thoughts. He felt quite cowardly for having immediately gotten under the table as his first reaction. It wasn't proper of him to get this frightened just because of scream. But Wales couldn't help himself, he associated the scream of the banshee with bad things and his reaction had always consisted of hiding away when the banshee wailed.

As if one could evade a banshee's prediction by hiding. That was absolutely laughable. And yet, it didn't seem like Wales would be able to stop himself from reacting like that. Wales exhaled deeply, feeling his jumpy nerves finally settle down. He looked up when he heard someone ring the doorbell.

Wales hesitated for a few seconds, listening to the silence of his house. It was soon broken by the doorbell ringing again. Wales took a deep breath and he crawled out from under his table. He stood up and made his way towards the door, wondering who it was.

Looking through the peephole of his door, he spotted the familiar blonde hair of his sister Brittany. Wales quickly opened the door for her, seeming to catch her by surprise by the abruptness of his action.

Brittany looked quite worried and the first thing she blurted out was, "Did you hear it too?"

Knowing what she was referring to, Wales nodded while he frowned worriedly. He answered slowly, "Yes, loud and clearly."

The Breton avatar bit her lower lip nervously, demanding, "Is it that bitch of a banshee again? Who is she crying for? Who's going to die this time?"

Wales shrugged his shoulders helplessly, "I'm sorry Brittany, I have no idea whose death the banshee has predicted. You really shouldn't call her a bitch though, she's simply doing what's in her nature."

"Which seems to be comprised of bringing us nothing but fear, grief and pain," Brittany declared lowly, seeming resentful. "I wish we didn't have the ability to hear her. I will never understand why Ireland and Scotland asked that banshee to attach to our family."

A third voice admonished, causing Brittany to look behind her, "Brittany, you honestly shouldn't be so harsh on the banshee. If it weren't for her, we would have lost Cornwall. Besides, I strongly doubt that it was the banshee's wailing that we all heard,"

"Isle of Man? You heard the scream too then?" Brittany questioned, sounding both surprised and apprehensive.

"Why do you think it couldn't have been the banshee?" Wales asked curiously. "She's about the only creature we would be able to hear in our minds when she cries…"

The Manx avatar approached the two other Celtic nations and he shook his head lightly as he readjusted his spectacles. He explained, "A banshee's cry is filled with grief and sadness… this scream was clearly angry. Banshees can be angry but they can't express it externally. Or at least, not verbally."

"I suppose their emotion spectrum isn't exactly the largest," Brittany added sarcastically, rolling her blue eyes.

Wales sighed, "Brittany, I know you don't like the banshee but surely you can set that grudge aside for now. We have a more important matter at hand."

"Am I really the only one who hates the idea that she can see when we will die and she wails to tell us? On top of that, it's not like she's 100% efficient. We didn't hear anything when England was going to take his own life," Brittany huffed in exasperation.

"That was probably due to the fact that England wasn't going to die, no matter what happened. That's the only explanation I have for her silence. Banshees don't cry unless it is certain that death is upon someone," Wales reasoned, looking at his angered sister in disapproval. He then turned to Isle of Man and questioned, "But if it wasn't the banshee we heard just now, who was it then?"

"The more important question is what caused that unknown being from screaming out in anger? It certainly doesn't bode well by the sound of it," Isle of Man mumbled uneasily.

"Well Cornwall, England, Ireland, Scotland and Northern Ireland are all at the World Meeting at India's place right now. One of them may have messed around with magic… again," Brittany added the last part tiredly, she knew that Wales was going to get angry about that. He disapproved of magic so much already, this was certainly not going to improve his views on it.

"It's almost certain that they're connected with this, but it still doesn't explain what they did to make a strange creature scream out in so much rage," Isle of Man said uneasily, looking worried. He turned his gaze to Wales and he questioned, "Wales, have you been in contact with them since the scream?"

"Of course, I immediately texted them to know what happened. I'm not sure whether I got a response from any of them yet…," Wales turned to look behind him into his house, remembering that he had left the phone beneath the table. "Hold on, I'll go check," Wales mumbled as he walked back into the house, Brittany and Isle of Man following him. Isle of Man closed the door behind him quietly and made his way to the kitchen where Wales and Brittany were.

Wales had picked up his phone from the floor and was checking whether there were new messages from his brothers. Apparently Cornwall had been the only one to respond to Wales' text. The Welsh nation eagerly clicked to open the message and he read it silently. As the contents of the message sunk in, Wales paled as he realized the severity of the situation. A part of him wished he hadn't read the message.

"Northern Ireland… was attacked," Wales muttered hoarsely, looking up at Isle of Man and Brittany. They both were taken aback and their expression was a mixture of shock and confusion.

"B-but how? W-what did Northern Ireland d-do? Is he badly hurt?" Brittany stuttered nervously, her eyes wide with fear.

Rereading the message, Wales exhaled slowly. He answered, "It seems like the foolish lad had gotten the idea in his head to meet England's ego personally and he managed to gain access to England's mind. However England's ego got angry and attacked Northern Ireland, breaking some of his ribs."

"That certainly isn't a normal thing for an ego to do…," Isle of Man noted apprehensively, frowning at the thought. He continued, "If the scream came from England's ego… then we might have to start considering that this dark voice is more than it seems."

"But what creature can use the bloodlines, hurt a nation physically and have ego-like traits?" Wales asked, looking completely perplexed. What creature fit such a profile? It was clear now that England's dark voice was more than just an ego, but what exactly was it then? How much strength did that ego have and how dangerous could it truly get?

Isle of Man became thoughtful as he searched for an answer in his mind, but he seemed just as lost as Wales. Brittany looked between Isle of Man and Wales, not seeming any wiser than either of them. She looked downwards for a moment and then she pointed out after a few seconds, "Hey Wales, your phone is lighting up. I think you got a new message from someone."

Looking down at his phone, Wales realized that he had gotten a new message. And this time it was from Scotland. Wales opened the message, expecting the recounting of the same situation previously explained by Cornwall. However he was surprised to read that Scotland wasn't explaining anything, he was asking for something! Wales looked up from the message as he said, "This one is from Scotland, he says he needs your help Mann."

"What for?" Isle of Man questioned curiously.

Wales looked at the message briefly again before relaying it to the Manx avatar. "Scotland is asking if you can read up on all the… aos sidhe I think? Well, he needs you to read up on them and find all those who can use the bloodlines and have the ability to either possess or coexist within another's body."

"The aos sidhe? Aren't those the creepy people of the mounds you, Ireland and Scotland have at your places?" Brittany asked, frowning distrustfully. "Does he think that England's ego is somehow connected to someone of the mounds?"

On the other hand, Isle of Man was completely speechless. He quickly recovered but he spluttered, "Scotland wants me to look up all of the aos sidhe who have those traits? That's like asking me to go out into the world and identify every person who has the ability to see red and green! That task is practically impossible! Almost all of the people of the mounds have the ability to use the bloodlines and possess a body."

"But what if England's ego is connected to the people of the mounds? Or what if the ego is a person of the mound itself?" Wales pressed, he had to know what all this new information about England's ego meant. How dangerous could this ego be, now that it was known that it was capable of hurting others physically?

The Manx avatar frowned as he shook his head slowly. He replied, "In both cases, this would be terrible news for England. Do you realize what most of the people of the mounds are? They all live in the Otherworld, they're almost all connected to death. If one of them decided to invade and live inside England's body, who knows how long they've affected him? By this point, I assume that the creature has been naturalised into England's subconsciousness, or else we would have become aware of its presence a lot earlier than now. It was only able to harm Northern Ireland when he connected his mind to England's."

"But then how dangerous can England's ego get?" Brittany questioned nervously, biting her lower lip.

"If it was the dark voice that managed to drive England into attempting suicide… I suppose it can get much more dangerous than we originally thought," Wales concluded uneasily. He looked at Isle of Man as he inquired, "So Scotland wants you to find what creature it could be to find a way of getting it out of England?"

Isle of Man nodded, "Most likely, some of the people of the mounds can be extracted using a simple spell while some others can be chased out as well. But this is wandering into unfamiliar territory, I may know a bit on the people of the mounds and I may have many books on them, but that does not make me an expert. Many of the things we know about them may be completely false or misunderstood," Isle of Man paused for a moment, becoming thoughtful. He then asked Wales, "Can I write a message to Scotland on your phone? I haven't mine with me."

Wales handed his phone to his brother while he questioned, "What do you want to say to Scotland?"

Whilst texting at the same time, Isle of Man explained, "I'm telling Scotland that I will try my best, but he'll need to ask Ireland's opinion on it too. Ireland met the people of the mounds a lot earlier than I did, he might know something about them in relation to England's ego."

"If you want Mann, we could help you out with looking up on the people of the mounds?" Wales offered helpfully, knowing that Isle of Man had several books in his house. They easily amounted to a few thousands and he had no idea how many of them would be about the people of the mounds.

Brittany smiled brightly as she added, "That's a great idea, we can cut the amount of work you would have to do on your own if we work all together. We could even ask some of the island avatars to help as well!"

Isle of Man grimaced slightly, seeming unsure about the proposition. He gave a nervous grin as he explained, "I appreciate the offer, but while I know that Wales is careful, I'm not that certain about you and the rest. Many of the books are old and very fragile… I don't want them to be mishandled and damaged."

The Breton avatar looked at Isle of Man incredulously before bursting out in laughter. She nudged him with her elbow in amusement, teasing him lightly, "Come on Mann, we can be careful too. You'll have too much to do on your own anyway."

Seeing that she wasn't going to back down from her offer, Isle of Man sighed silently. He finally conceded, "Alright, I suppose I will need all the hands and eyes available to gather the ridiculous amount of information Scotland is asking for."

* * *

When America and Canada arrived at England's hotel room to ask the Brit if he would be interested in joining the horror marathon, they discovered that the room was locked and neither England nor any of his brothers answered the door. It was a given that Scotland and Ireland wouldn't be here, but what about the rest? America was about to knock the door down in case anything fishy was going on before Canada spotted a note that was hidden under the door.

Canada pulled the note out and both North American nations read its contents curiously. It was Cornwall who had written the note and he explained that Prussia had already asked England, Northern Ireland and him whether they were interested in joining the horror marathon. The note informed America and Canada that they had accepted and were just going out for a short while, then they would make their way to Germany's room at the agreed time.

"That's 8 pm at Germany's room which is 342, right?" America asked Canada, wanting to ensure that he had read Prussia's text message right.

Canada nodded as he responded, "Yes, that was what Prussia sent to all of us."

America studied the note closely, frowning as he realized something odd. He pointed out, "You know, the note is a bit strange. It doesn't say to who it's meant for but I have a feeling it's directed at us. But how would they have guessed that we would have come here?"

"Maybe it wasn't meant for us. The note could also be directed at Ireland and Scotland, in case they came back here and wondered where everyone else had gone. So I don't think the note is that strange...," Canada replied, looking at America in mild amusement.

"Alright, so I guess we wait until 8 and then go to Germany's room then," America concluded, giving the note back to Canada.

Canada folded the note and placed it back under the door, just in case Scotland and Ireland did come back. He straightened up and questioned America, "Since we have some time to spare, we could go out and eat something."

"Yeah, I think it would be good to eat something, I'm starving," America agreed happily, nodding vigorously.

"Or you know, the food could be booby-trapped too…," Canada teased, smiling lightly at his brother.

America rolled his eyes and huffed, "I'm not that paranoid Canada… or really, why do you guys always think I'm so paranoid? I'm just really careful. I could say that it is the rest of you nations who aren't careful enough."

The Canadian shrugged his shoulders as he replied, "I don't know, it may have something to do with your airports…"

"Will people finally quit complaining about my airports?" America questioned rhetorically, sighing exasperatedly as he started walking away. Canada chuckled as he caught up with the American, patting him on the shoulder. America looked back at Canada and with a small grin, nudged him so that the Canadian stumbled a bit sideways.

* * *

About a few hours after Prussia had asked England, Cornwall and Northern Ireland to participate in his scare prank, Cornwall got a text message from Prussia telling them to go to Germany's hotel room, which was about two floors down from England's hotel room. After being told what number Germany's room was, the three avatars made their way to the room.

When they entered the room, England found that it was surprisingly messy. Hadn't he been told a few times by Wales and the others that Germany was a very organized and clean person? Though, England amended, maybe the messiness was due to a certain Prussian who was enthusiastically preparing things for the prank.

Upon hearing the other avatars enter, Prussian looked up from some papers that he had splayed all over the floor. He grinned widely as he exclaimed, "Great, you're all here now!"

"Did you cause so much chaos in less than an hour and a half?" Cornwall questioned slowly, looking around him in shock. He seemed also very surprised by the mess.

"Nah, it's been like that since I freed myself earlier," Prussia replied with a wide grin. "Luckily I managed to convince Germany not to enter after the meeting, otherwise he'd have flipped his shit if he had seen the state of this room. Anyway, after you guys, I went to look for more nations to see how many would be coming. I got quite a large group together in the end, which is really good."

"How many exactly?" Northern Ireland asked hesitantly, looking down at the papers on the floor.

The Prussian ex-nation shrugged and simply said, "Enough for this prank to be fun. And of course the horror marathon will be more awesome because fear is contagious!" Prussia grinned in excitement at the thought of the pure chaos that would ensue but then he caught himself and calmed down. He then beckoned at England, saying, "C'mere England, we better start preparing you for the scare prank."

England looked behind at Cornwall and Northern Ireland before approaching the Prussian uncertainly. Prussia shifted away from his papers and pulled from behind the bed multiple objects that England couldn't exactly identify.

Seeing the apprehension in England's face, Prussia assured, "Don't worry England, all this stuff is just for the scare prank. They're completely harmless, trust me. Just sit here in front of me."

The smaller nation stepped closer to Prussia and sat cross-legged in front of him. Prussia pulled a small water basin in front of him and then took a sponge in one hand and a strange object that had different colours on it… a paint palette, England's mind reminded.

Before starting though, Prussia looked up at Cornwall and Northern Ireland and said while nodding at some black material on the bed, "While I get England prepared, why don't you two try on the robes I got for you? I hope they fit, you two were kind of a last-minute addition to the prank so I didn't have anything prepared for you."

Northern Ireland stepped closer to the bed and took one of the robes, looking at it curiously. He noted after a moment, "So, you want to make us look like the Grim Reaper?"

"Not really, but it will make you guys more sinister-looking," Prussia grinned widely as he turned back to England, dipping the sponge into the water basin. While he was putting white paint on the sponge, Prussia instructed the Brit, "Alright, just close your eyes for a while. Don't wanna get paint in your eyes, yeah?"

England nodded slowly as he closed his eyes, shrinking back slightly with a small frown as he felt the cold and wet sponge being pressed against his cheek. He heard Prussia snicker quietly as he started to paint England's face. England felt a bit uncertain now that he couldn't see what was going on, making him rely more on his hearing to keep track. He heard the shuffling of some clothes, it was probably Cornwall and Northern Ireland who were changing to see if the robes fit.

In an attempt to strike up a conversation, Prussia asked, "So, are you two going to stick around after the prank for the horror movies? It would be cool if you did, makes the horror marathon more fun."

"I don't mind, as long as the horror movies are well-made," Northern Ireland replied, sounding curious.

Cornwall however sounded less sure. "I don't know…. I don't think I'm a fan of horror movies, particularly the ones full of gore."

Prussia chuckled in amusement as he now moved the sponge from England's cheeks to his forehead. He laughed, "Don't worry about those kinds of movies, you know none of them are real, right? I don't think you'll get stressed enough for your alternate personality to take over, if it's that that you're worried about."

There was a momentary silence that followed, making England wonder what Cornwall was thinking. Then the Cornish avatar questioned shakily, "H-how do you know?"

"The mental disorder thing? Oh, I heard it from a couple of the other nations. This type of news travels very quickly among us. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone has heard of it by now," Prussia replied, removing the sponge from England's face. It came back a few seconds later, a bit wetter than before. Prussia then started making his way down England's nose, causing the Brit to wrinkle his nose slightly.

In all that silence, England could barely hear a sound from his brothers. He could imagine that Cornwall was trying to absorb this new information, the knowledge that now everyone knew about his disorder. After some seconds of silence, Cornwall asked sulkily, "…Great. So, aren't you going to mock me about it?"

Prussia paused for a moment before replying lightly, "Why should I? I've gotten enough crap for being an albino avatar in the past, so I understand how you feel. Avatars are simply attracted and fascinated by what is not usual for us. Why should I make fun of you for something you have no control over?" Prussia wiped the sponge over England's chin, lower jaw and neck a few more times before removing the sponge. He then said to England, "Alright, it'll take a few minutes for the paint to dry but you can open your eyes now."

England gladly opened his eyes, looking around as he got used to the feeling of paint on his face. He spotted Northern Ireland and Cornwall sitting on the bed, both having changed into the black robes. They did look rather sinister in them. Cornwall seemed to be still surprised as he processed the words Prussia had said.

Cornwall stared at Prussia silently for a few seconds and then he mumbled, "Thank you. For not… you know."

The German ex-nation nodded wordlessly as he checked that the paint on England's had been spread out evenly. He then turned to look at England's brothers and he hummed in approval. "Awesome, the robes fit perfectly. Alright, on to our next obstacle," Prussia declared enthusiastically, reaching out for something that looked like… a wig? England stared at the object closely, trying to remind himself what a wig was. It looked like fake hair somehow.

Prussia was also looking at the wig thoughtfully and then he looked at the England and his brothers. Prussia looked a bit sheepish as he admitted, "Yeah, that's the other issue. I have one wig and I think it will fit England only. I'm not sure what you two could do to change your hair… I was thinking of maybe dying your hair?"

Cornwall and Northern Ireland looked at each other for a few seconds, both seeming uncertain. Northern Ireland then wrinkled his nose and shook his head as he explained, "I don't think it's a good idea for us to dye our hair… I remember when England went through that punk phase and he dyed his hair green. It took literally months before the green finally faded away. Wales said something about how some human products can have unexpected results on us."

"That's a good point…" Prussia muttered, frowning at the new issue.

"Wait, I dyed my hair green once? What is a "punk"?" England questioned, looking confused. This piece of information was new to him, he honestly had never expected that his past self of all people would make his hair green. And he went through a "punk phase", though he had no idea what punk was.

Cornwall smiled in amusement at the questions and he replied with a chuckle, "It's a long story but to shorten it, sometime in the 1970s, you got so sick of being traditional that you went to the other extreme and tried to be as non-conventional as possible for a while. To say you shocked some of us would be an understatement." Cornwall fell silent for a moment, looking thoughtful and then he brightened up as an idea struck him. He turned to Prussia and asked, "And what if Northern Ireland and I use a simple spell to change our appearance?"

"Spell? But aren't you guys catastrophic with magic?" Prussia inquired, looking at the Cornish avatar with a raised eyebrow.

The English county reddened with slight embarrassment as he defended, "Just because some of the disastrous episodes are better known to everyone, that doesn't mean that we're all bad at magic. Your emotions usually play a huge role in your ability of channelling magic. The calmer you are, the better you are at spells."

"Alrighty dude, I didn't mean to sound like I was doubting your abilities!" Prussia exclaimed, laughing awkwardly, "I'm just not sure about all this hokus pokus thing… I've heard a couple of times about what happens when magic goes wrong."

"It's not such a difficult spell really, I'll show you," Cornwall huffed slightly, still looking a bit peeved. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He started to murmur something under his breath softly, his voice barely reaching the level of a whisper. After a moment, soft light started glowing on Cornwall's and Northern Ireland's faces and England saw the facial structures morphing slightly.

When the light faded away, it became clearer the changes that had occurred to his brothers. England stared them with a mixture of surprise and wariness, trying to get used to their changed appearances. It was a bit unsettling if England could be honest. Prussia however seemed really pleased, judging by the way he was looking at them appraisingly.

He eventually grinned widely as he declared, "Well, consider me impressed. You guys look awesome now!"

"Told you I could do it." Cornwall replied, sounding smug as he crossed his arms over his chest. Though England had never seen Cornwall being smug, it looked oddly fitting with his current changed appearance.

Northern Ireland looked his hands with a slight frown and tried looking at what had happened to his hair. He stared at Cornwall in slight annoyance and he grumbled, "You know, you could have warned me that you wanted to change my appearance as well."

At that reproach, Cornwall's smug expression vanished and he smiled apologetically at the younger nation. "Sorry, I probably should have…"

"Hey, do you think you could do the same to England?" Prussia asked brightly, looking hopeful.

Just as Cornwall, Prussia and Northern Ireland turned to look at England, the smaller nation quickly shook his head and protested, "No, I don't want to have any spell put on me! Anything but that."

"Why?" Prussia questioned, sounding quite confused.

A bit embarrassed by his reaction, England mumbled, "Things went bad last time a spell was put on me. I don't want anything to do with magic for a while." England didn't want to have a repetition of the wings incident ever again. He had been convinced often enough that magic is a very tricky thing to control and should not be treated lightly.

Prussia looked thoughtful before eventually nodding his head, "Alright England, you don't have to do it if you don't want to. But that means that the alternate way will be a bit more difficult."

"How can a wig be more difficult than magic?" Northern Ireland questioned, stifling a small laugh at the thought.

The Prussian snorted as he replied, "I wasn't referring to the wig, I meant this." Prussia took a small box out of his pocket and showed it to England. England stared at it silently, not understanding the purpose of the box or whatever it contained. Prussia explained, "Those are contact lenses."

"Contact lenses?" England echoed, looking confused. What were contact lenses? His mind didn't seem to be able to bring up an image of that unknown object.

Cornwall frowned at the small box and he questioned, "You got contact lenses for England? But how did you get the right size? Have you actually ever tried using contact lenses?"

"Hey, do I look like the type to charge headfirst into something without any idea of what I'm doing?" Prussia countered, looking at Cornwall seriously. "Of course I've tried and practiced. I can't say I'm an expert at it but I know enough to not poke England's eyes out, if it's that you're worried about."

"So, contact lenses are something I put in my eyes?" England inquired uneasily, not sounding very convinced. That sounded like it could hurt, or at least get uncomfortable.

Prussia laughed, "Chill England, it will be on your eyes. Not in them. You'll look really badass with them, don't worry?"

"I'm more worried about how you're going to put something on my eyes. What're they supposed to do?" England asked, on the verge of refusing to have those contact lenses put on him.

Cornwall explained, "They're objects you can put on your eyes, usually to improve your sight if you have weak eyes. But there are some contact lenses that don't do anything to your eyes, other than change the appearance of the iris."

"To put it shortly, Prussia wants to put something that will cover your green eyes and make you unrecognizable," Northern Ireland added helpfully.

The Prussian ex-nation grinned widely as he nodded, "Exactly. Don't worry England, it may feel a bit weird but there is no pain. Oh, and it would be also awesome if I could… umm, shave your eyebrows too?"

England stared back at Prussia numbly, trying to process what the Prussian had just requested. Suddenly feeling very self-conscious, England raised his arm to cover his thick eyebrows protectively. Prussia slowly became aware that both Cornwall and Northern Ireland were glaring at him, both nation and county having crossed their arms tightly over their chests.

"You have a problem with our eyebrows?" Cornwall demanded, looking at Prussia with narrowed eyes.

Prussia seemed a bit surprised by the unexpected reactions from the island avatars. He quickly shook his head and he replied lightly, "Nein, I just wanted to make it less easy for the others to guess that it is England. The eyebrows really give it away… Cornwall's and Northern Ireland's are gone since you've changed appearances but England still has them. I don't actually have a problem with your eyebrows, they're strangely funny. But they're pretty iconic."

"No shaving." England declared stubbornly, still covering his eyebrows.

"Come on England, just this once?" Prussia insisted, smiling encouragingly at the Brit. England frowned and shook his head adamantly. He had absolutely no intention on letting Prussia shave his eyebrows off.

"Besides, you painted them white along with the rest of England's face so they're not that noticeable." Northern Ireland pointed out, looking at England closely.

"Alright, alright…," Prussia grumbled a bit, but seemed to decide that it was not worth making a fuss out of it. He then said, "So then, with the wig and the contact lenses, all you need is to put your costume on and we should be just about ready for the prank."

"How about your disguise?" England questioned, surprised that Prussia hadn't done any kind of preparation for himself.

"Don't worry about it, I have everything under control," Prussia assured, sounding almost lazy. Though Prussia was certainly far from that, considering all the planning that had gone into this scare prank. Prussia could be very well prepared if he wanted to be. Prussia added, "Alright, we should also go over our "battle" positions for the prank."

"What's the plan?" Cornwall questioned, sounding curious.

Prussia set the things he had in his hands on the bed and pulled a large sheet of paper in front of him. England, Cornwall and Northern Ireland leaned closer to have a look and were surprised to find that it was a map of the hotel floor they were currently on. Prussia took a pen and circled the room they were in.

He started to explain, "Alright, England will have the easiest job as he will stay in this room but he'll start the prank." Prussia looked at England and elaborated, "Your brothers and I will leave you here and you won't have to do anything until 20:00. At that point, one of our "victims" will knock on the door and you'll open it. That's all you have to do, your appearance will be enough to unsettle some of them. You… can reach the door, yeah?"

"Yes, of course I can reach the doorknob," England confirmed, processing what Prussia had told him. Yeah, the plan sounded doable. The only thing England would have to watch for is the reaction of the other nations when they see him. He'll have to be careful not to give anything away that might tell the others too quickly that it was him.

"What about us?" Northern Ireland inquired, studying the map carefully.

Prussia started drawing lines to show where he and England's brothers were going to be and where they would be moving. He answered, "As you can see, Germany got a really good room because we have one corridor here which gives us two directions to come from and the corridor turns as well, so both of us can hide behind the corners to escape detection from the other nations. We're also really close to the second corridor that leads to the elevator. So one of us will hide a bit beyond the elevator so that the nations who are coming with the elevator won't see you. The two others will hide at the ends of the corridor behind the corridors. When England opens the door, we should start moving fast. We'll also have a few smoke bombs to up the creepiness level."

"Smoke bombs? But will North be alright with-," Cornwall started to protest worriedly but was cut off by the younger avatar.

"Cornwall, I don't mind smoke bombs! They're small and harmless, I can handle myself with them," Northern Ireland huffed loudly, looking a bit irritated that Cornwall had so quickly assumed that he would be afraid of the smoke bombs. England assumed that they were relatively inoffensive, the name itself already suggested that there would be only smoke. They would be nothing like the firecrackers England had once handled so foolishly at China's house.

The Prussian smirked widely and said, "That's awesome to hear! So, each of us will have two smoke bombs and when England opens the door, we'll light them and roll them in front of us so that the smoke will act as a cover as we approach the others. England won't need them of course as he needs to scare the nations by his appearance. We'll scare them by our sudden appearance. So, anything else I need to clear up?"

The British Isles avatars looked between each other, each trying to read the expression of the other. England looked at his two brothers with their strange appearances, still feeling a bit unsettled with knowing that it was them and yet not being able to recognize them or tell them apart. Only their voices and stature remained the same. England himself was halfway through the transformation, his disguise relying on anything but magic.

On all three of the faces, an expression of understanding was there and they all understood what part they had to play in this quite elaborate scare prank. They all looked back at Prussia and nodded firmly.

Prussia laughed and then declared happily, "Awesome! We'll just add a few finishing touches and then we're ready to go!"

* * *

It was about 10 minutes before 20:00 when America and Canada arrived at Germany's hotel room. Of course Canada had made sure that they would arrive early so they were the first nations to arrive. They both spotted a note that was stuck to the door, written in large letters to catch the attention of anyone who was passing by.

The note read: _Don't knock on the door before 20:00! Danke schön! _

America grinned, wondering what would happen if he knocked before 20:00 but unfortunately for him, Canada was there to prevent him from even acting his thoughts out. Canada shot him a disapproving glance and America retracted his hand slowly.

"Okay, okay, I won't knock," America rolled his eyes, stepping away from the door.

They waited for a few minutes before the other nations started appearing. Japan was the first to appear and he was soon followed by Taiwan and Hong Kong. Soon after, Luxembourg appeared along with Belgium and Netherlands. Norway arrived a few seconds after the Benelux siblings and then Australia and New Zealand followed. After three minutes a group of Asian nations compromising of Indonesia, Cambodia, Malaysia, Philippines and Thailand came out of the elevator and approached the growing group of other nations. India and Pakistan followed in quick succession and South Africa and Mexico came after them. About 2 minutes before 20:00, France, Spain, Portugal and the Italy brothers were the last to arrive. (honestly, how had Prussia managed to get the Italian brothers to come along?)

All the nations greeted each other and most of the nations read Prussia's note on the door. The whole party waited a short while until all of their watches read 20:00. America looked around, wondering where England and his brothers were.

"Did anyone see England coming up here?" America questioned the other nations, looking at them curiously.

Some of the nations looked between each other, eventually shaking their heads. India proposed, "He's probably just running late."

"Well it's 8 pm right now, we could go on ahead and he'll catch up with us?" Indonesia suggested.

America considered the suggestion for a moment before nodding. He then made his way to the door, raising his arm and knocking on it. After a few seconds there was a slight fumbling and scratching sound coming from the other side of the door. Suddenly the door creaked open ominously.

Some of the nations laughed in amusement at the poor attempt of making the act of opening a door ominous. There was no way Prussia thought they could honestly be frightened by something so basic. America snickered as he declared confidently, "Nice try at being scary Prussia, but you will need to try a lot harder than that to-WOOAAHH!"

America and the others suddenly jumped back as the person who opened the door appeared in front of them. It was Prussia but he was small and dressed in his Teutonic Knight clothes! How in the world… first England and now Prussia reverted back to a child? Prussia looked at them uncertainly, seeming as if he was battling between saying something or saying nothing.

All of a sudden, the lights in the corridor flickered for a few seconds and hissing came from all over the place. Smoke appeared out of nowhere and started engulfing the nations. Everyone was looking around quickly, every expression as confused as the other.

There was a burst of cackling that came from behind the nations, causing almost everyone to jump out of their skins and look immediately behind them to see who it was. It was another Prussia! This one was more like the normal Prussia but he was wearing a black robe and a bloodied scythe. He was grinning maniacally at them, his eyes shining in a bloodthirsty manner.

Everyone backed away from the intimidating Prussian and everyone started looking to either side of the corridor to escape. But amidst the smoke, they saw two other Prussias appearing each on one side of the corridor, effectively trapping the nations in the middle. One Prussia was holding a bloodied sword while the other held a bloodied shield.

The nations looked back and forth in confusion and growing fear, trying to make sense of why there were four different Prussias. America looked wildly behind him, wondering whether he should try to jump over the smaller Prussia to get out of this situation. It was then that America took a real good look at the young Prussia and managed to make out the tell-tale thick eyebrows that Prussia never had in his life. The eyebrows were almost barely distinguishable, but America was certain that he knew of only one nation who would be this small and have these eyebrows.

"E-england?" America spluttered uncertainly, praying that his senses weren't playing a trick on him. Some the other nations looked at the smaller Prussia, trying to see what America was talking about.

The disguised English nation was silent for a few more seconds before he broke into an amused chuckle and replied, "Yes."

"Aww come on England, couldn't you have played along for just a while longer?" The Prussia who was holding the scythe complained, stepping towards the nations.

"I think we've had our fun Prussia." One of the other Prussias sighed as he and the other Prussia stepped closer to the group of nations. All three adult Prussias lowered the weapons and smiled encouragingly at the nations who still looked rather shocked by everything that happened in the just last few minutes.

"Were we just… pranked?" New Zealand asked, still looking a bit shaken.

"By the awesome me no less!" Prussia declared proudly. When the two adult Prussias shot an accusing look at the original Prussian, the German ex-nation added, "And with the help of England and his brothers Cornwall and Northern Ireland."

"Seriously?" India questioned, sounding very much surprised. She approached Cornwall and Northern Ireland and looked at them hard. Other nations did the same as her and got closer to the British Isles avatars, curious to see how they were disguised. India stated what everyone else was thinking, "But… how did you two disguise yourselves so well? I can literally not tell the difference."

"Let me guess, you two used magic to change your appearance?" Mexico inquired, smiling knowingly at the island avatars as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Yes, and I hope he knows how to change our appearances back," Northern Ireland replied, looking at Cornwall dubiously.

"Of course I know how," Cornwall quickly answered, smiling a bit nervously.

"What about that blood on the weapons?" Luxembourg pointed out, looking at the weapons uneasily.

"Don't worry Lux, I don't think that's actually real blood," Belgium laughed lightly.

"Yeah, that's just cranberry jam! Looks really like blood when you don't look at it too closely… or smell it for that matter," Prussia explained, adding as an afterthought, "I really should have filmed this, it would have been so cool to immortalize this prank."

A few of the nations laughed awkwardly, no doubt that some of them were already thinking on how they were going to pay Prussia back for that scare. America turned to look at England and saw that the smaller avatar was being studied by Norway, Portugal and a handful of other nations.

England was looking back evenly at them and he questioned, "What is it?"

Portugal shook his head as he commented, "Nothing, the disguise is just really well done. I wouldn't have thought that Prussia would have it in him to disguise you so well."

"I've always been a master of disguise Port, this was easy to do!" Prussia boasted loudly, laughing.

France raised an eyebrow and he shook his head. "Prussie, you managed to get a fitting white hair wig for Angleterre, somehow got Teutonic Knight clothes for him and you even got red contact lenses. All of this must have been far from easy to get."

"Where'd you get those things from anyway?" Spain asked, looking at Prussia curiously.

"I have my sources," Prussia answered simply, tapping the side of his nose as he grinned widely at the Spanish nation.

"Well the fact remains, it must have taken a lot of time to get everything and plan the whole prank out," Norway stated calmly, sounding slightly impressed though it was a bit difficult to see from his always-neutral expression.

"I think it was well made, I certainly didn't expect it," Thailand declared, a bunch of nations nodding and murmuring their agreement. America caught a brief glimpse of Prussia's cheeks colouring in response to the positive comments but the Prussian quickly looked away.

When he turned to face the other nations, he exclaimed, "Well, thanks for liking my awesome prank but this is just the beginning of the night. Now get in everyone, we'll start deciding what horror movies we should begin with!"

The nations all grinned widely at that, all of them being quite avid fans of the horror genre. As the nations entered the hotel room and started chatting which films they should select, Canada took the disguised England to the side. "Maybe we should get you changed, eh? I think you might be more comfortable in your own clothes and I also don't think you're supposed to carry those contact lenses for too long."

England nodded, "Yes, my things are in the bathroom. I'll go change now." He then trotted off into the hotel room towards the bathroom, with Canada following him. Cornwall and Northern Ireland also left to change their appearances back to normal.

When England and Canada returned after 10 minutes, with England being his normal self again, they came upon the rest of the nations who were in a disagreement over which film they should start with. There was a paper between them where the names of some horror films had been written down. Prussia was sitting on the bed with the laptop on his knees as he checked for some other films.

Just as England and Canada were about to re-join the nations, Canada almost bumped into… another Prussia? England looked up and saw that this Prussia was wearing Northern Ireland's clothes. England asked, "Why aren't you changed back?"

"Because the obvious happened: Cornwall messed up the spell and can't revert it," Northern Ireland grumbled, rolling his eyes as he glared at Cornwall who walked up to them.

Cornwall looked a bit embarrassed as he attempted to defend himself, "I didn't mess up, I just made a small confusion with the structure of the spell so I made it impervious to any outside influences. But the spell should start wearing off tomorrow, the appearance is not permanent."

"It better not be…," Northern Ireland sighed as he wandered over to the larger group of nations to listen to what films were being currently suggested.

"Well, that's kind of what I wanted avoid," England commented, trying not to sound too glad that he had refused to have any spell put on him. Cornwall exhaled deeply and muttered something about this usually happening to Ireland, not to himself, and then he, Canada and England went to join the other nations.

"And I say we should totally watch Paranormal Activities, it really is scary. All the sequels are cool," America argued stubbornly.

"But those movies are sort of like the Blair Witch Project, once you've seen that one, you've seen all of them," Mexico pointed out, smiling smugly at the American.

"Hey, why don't we watch Black Sheep? I'm sure that Kiwi enjoys this film a lot," Australia teased slyly, laughing lightly as New Zealand gave him a peeved look.

"Very funny Australia," New Zealand muttered quietly, crossing his arms over his chest tightly. To save face, New Zealand proposed, "How about The Haunting? I heard that was a good film."

"That isn't really much of a horror movie though, is it?" Prussia asked, looking up from his laptop.

"I maintain that we should watch Dead Snow first. Or Troll Hunter." Norway said rather passively.

"But those films are in Norwegian!" America protested loudly, turning to look at the Nordic nation incredulously.

"English subtitles are available on both movies." Norway added, raising an eyebrow at the American.

"Why not watch Ju-on The Grudge?" Japan suggested calmly.

"Yeah, The Grudge is a freaking scary horror movie!" America exclaimed excitedly, looking over at the Japanese nation.

Japan looked surprised at first before he realized something and he quickly remedied, "Not your version America-san, I'm referring to the original movie."

"…But that one is in Japanese."

France sighed, "America, surely reading subtitles can't be that hard. You can't expect every single movie to be in English."

America pouted and crossed his arms. England sat beside him quietly and watched as the discussions continued, the names of other interesting horror movies being mentioned.

"How about REC? I heard that was a really good Spanish horror movie," North Italy proposed helpfully, looking hopeful.

"There's also that movie The Woman in Black, I've heard a lot of positive things about it." Australia spoke up, grinning widely.

Suddenly Prussia called out, "Hey guys, I've thought of a way to decide which film should go first. Give all the films on the list random numbers of 1 to 100 and since I organised this horror marathon, I will think of a number. The number that is the closest to one film, we will watch that movie. Sound fair?"

After a few minutes, all of the nations present agreed that it was perhaps the best way to go about it. Some nations added a few more horror films on the list before Japan took the list and wrote random numbers beside each movie. Of course he and the others ensured that Prussia wouldn't be able to see the list at all.

When Japan nodded to show that he was done, Prussia thought about the number for a moment before suggesting, "Number 42 then?"

Japan stared at the list and many of the nations leaned closer to look which movie had won. Japan declared, albeit sounding a bit disappointed, "At number 40, we have the film Dawn of the Dead.

America laughed happily, "So Dawn of the Dead is the winner!"

Some nations cheered at that while a few groaned. But it was decided, they would watch Dawn of the Dead first. A few nations left to get more pillows and blankets from their rooms and soon they were all huddled together on the ground with the laptop on the bed.

Prussia explained as he sat down among the other nations, "Alright, the rules of the horror marathon are simple: Keep watching the movie as long as you can and you lose if you run out of the room 5 times. You do get some credit for returning to the room soon after but you're completely disqualified if you run away and don't come back. But the main point is, have fun being scared or scaring those beside you. Is everyone ready?"

When almost everyone nodded uncertainly, Prussia exclaimed as he reached out for the mouse of the laptop, "Then let the horror marathon begin!"

* * *

After a few hours of watching horror movies, several nations were practically hugging each other as they reached another suspenseful moment of the current film they had been watching. Some nations had finally given up and ran out of the door but a number of them did come back later when they had calmed down.

Right now the movie the nations were currently watching was quite horrifying, both in the gore and suspense area. Both Belgium and Luxembourg were hiding behind Netherlands who would now and again roll his eyes at the scared reactions of his younger siblings.

New Zealand, Australia and Canada were huddled together fearfully and while India and Pakistan were visibly shaken, now and again, seeing each other seemed to bring out the sibling competitiveness in them and both resisted hiding when a frightening scene came around.

Spain had his arms around both Prussia and France and was very unwilling to release them from his vicelike grip, despite Prussia's grumbling. South Africa often resorted to covering her face in her pillow to stop from seeing.

America had at some point grabbed England and pulled him unto his laps, holding him tightly and refusing to relax his grip. Every few times England had to protest quietly that America was suffocating him with his strength. America had till now managed to stop himself from running out of the room but there was no doubt that he was really scared, judging from the way he would close his eyes tightly. England himself didn't feel so scared when there was a scene with a "ghostly monster", England knew ghosts didn't really do that in real life. Of course the jump-scares did get him again and again.

To be honest… England wasn't really the only one who was good and staying calm during some of the scarier parts of the movie. Norway was watching with mild interest while Mexico often seemed more amused at some of the exaggerated ketchup gore scenes. Hong Kong and Japan seemed to be pretty unaffected by the violent scenes, now and again rolling their eyes when a particular scene went too over the top.

But Indonesia also didn't look too frightened. From time to time she did look away at the bloody scenes but usually her attention was detracted by her siblings who were pressing close to her.

The Italian brothers had long fled and no one considered it possible that they would return anytime soon.

* * *

America had no clue what time it was but he was sure it was after three in the morning by the time most nations were too sleepy to continue with the horror marathon. With the nations nodding off by the end of "who-was-still-counting?" number of movies, a sleepy Prussia finally decided to turn the laptop off and call it a night, naming no one as the winner of the horror marathon because they had all at one point finally fled the room in pure terror. Though it really depended on the type of horror movies, some nations who were scared by one type weren't so afraid of another type. It actually showed that Westernized films were more violent and gore oriented while the Asian films preferred building the suspense.

England had remained patiently on America's lap despite having to complain a few times that America was choking him with his strength when he got scared. Strangely enough England hadn't asked even once to be released by the American, thus having spent most of the time being hugged the daylights out by a frightened America.

But eventually England had become sleepy and fallen asleep during one of the horror movies. America was quite shocked, how did England fall asleep so easily after watching so many horror movies? Not that he had been scared by too many of them, but then again America had to consider the type of nightmares England had seen recently. They must have been infinitely scarier and more real than a simple horror movie.

As the nations wearily made their way back to their respective hotel rooms, many dragging the blankets and pillows back with them, America carried England back to the Brit's hotel room. He was glad when he found the hotel room key in England's pocket, allowing America to enter the room. Ireland still wasn't there, though America was too tired to worry about what had happened to Ireland and Scotland after the meeting. He could worry about it tomorrow morning.

Carrying England to his bed, America gently laid him onto the bed and tucked him in, biting back a wide yawn. He looked down at England, wondering how the hell he could look this peaceful after having seen some of the most disturbing and scariest horror movies. America himself wasn't sure if he was going to be able to sleep well tonight, or sleep at all.

America suddenly felt a bit intimidated by the silence and darkness of the room. What type of evil ghosts were lurking in the shadows in this room? Weren't England and Ireland those kind of nations who sometimes had magical creatures following them? Logically speaking, that meant that there were some bad spirits among them, meaning that America couldn't possibly leave England alone.

A-anyway, who knew if England was going to suffer from one of those horrible nightmares? The American hurriedly made up his mind, he was going to stay with England. He carefully slipped into bed beside England, wrapping his arms around the Brit and hugging the smaller nation closer to his chest.

He wasn't afraid! He was just protecting England from all the potential evil ghosts that might come. Yeah, that's what it was all about! Nothing with America being scared, he was never scared-

The slight whooshing of the wind against the window outside caused America to make a little squeak and bury himself deeper into the covers and pulling England closer to him. Okay, maybe he was a little scared because of the movies… but just the movies! Not his overactive imagination…

America closed his eyes and attempted to find at least some sleep, there was still one last meeting in a few hours and then the World Meeting would be concluded. He still needed energy for that and then he would be able to finally relax.

The Northern American nation sighed as he tried to relax, listening to England's soft breathing to calm his racing heart down. Surprisingly enough it worked and America soon slipped away into sleep.

* * *

_England jolted slightly as he opened his eyes to a confusing environment. Rather than seeing darkness, England was seeing different hues of red and yellow around him. Somehow he thought of the sky when he looked at the different colours hesitantly. Now and again there were some flashes and flickering in the distance, but it was too indistinct for England to make out. _

_Where in the world had he landed? England felt completely disoriented and lost, he had no idea what he had to do. He didn't even know where the ground was, he just seemed to be floating aimlessly in the air. England shifted around, feeling with his hands and feet for anything solid. He found nothing._

_He became aware of distant hissing and popping. England looked around, wondering why he was filled with dread and fear. What was coming closer and why was he afraid of it? He became aware that the hues of red and yellow started to move slowly, merging and melting into each other. _

_Like a bubble, England felt something invisible coming nearer and engulfing him into its emptiness. England heard very distantly hundreds of voices shouting and screaming in pain. And then those voices died down and only a few moans and sobbing could be heard. Feeling uneasy, the Brit tried pushing out of the bubble, not knowing what he had just heard. To whom had all those voices belonged? Why had they been so pained? _

_Suddenly England felt something within his chest. It was hot and grainy and it viciously scratched at his lungs and throat. England coughed and choked, bending over himself as he tried dislodging whatever was in his chest. He coughed it out into his hand._

_Looking in his hand to see what it was, England was disturbed to see that his hand was littered in specks of black. What in the world was this supposed to be? As he glared at the strange black substance, the specks started to shudder and they turned into red droplets of blood._

_England looked at the drops of blood in mute horror, wondering what was going on. As if driven by an invisible force, the droplets trickled to the edges of his hand and they slid off. _

_He heard the faint sound of the blood drops hitting a surface but when he looked down, he saw at first nothing. Then all of a sudden, 7 distinct red shapes formed under England. They twirled and twisted into more recognizable shapes, eventually assuming the shapes of human bodies. _

_The seven red human-like creatures looked up towards England, their eyes opening into wide icy eyes. One of the larger creatures reached out towards England, its mouth opening and a disconnected slightly familiar voice called out to the Brit, "Take my hand!"_

_Uncertain, England reached out and grasped the ice-cold hand of the strange creature. He immediately regretted his decision when a rose vine shot out of the other creature's arm and wrapped itself around England's arm, tightening its grip painfully. _

_The nation cried out in pain and he tried yanking his arm back, feeling the thorns dig it his skin instantly. The human-like creature looked at England sadly as it cried, "Don't be afraid, I don't want to hurt you brother. I'll protect you. We'll all protect you from those monsters."_

_Looking around in panic, England noticed that the 6 other creatures walked to make a circle around him, raising both of their arms up to reach out for England. England frowned and tried shying away, though he really wasn't able to go anywhere. He saw several rose vines crawl out of the creatures, the plant shooting upwards towards England._

_The Brit closed his eyes tightly, not wanting to see what was going to happen. Instead, he felt the vines twist around him and he curled up to avoid having the vines wrap around his arms and legs. When the feathery sound of the moving vines stopped, England opened his eyes nervously._

_He could see nothing now. He couldn't see the strange creatures and… well he couldn't anything else but the vines. They had wrapped around England, trapping him into a cocoon of thorns. England couldn't even move as inevitably a thorn would dig itself into his body and cause him to wince every time he moved a muscle._

_England heard hundreds of voices rise up again like a wave, the pained screaming and crying causing his gut to twist around fearfully. But in the midst of these voices, he managed to hear some of the things that were being said._

"_Run!" _

"_Don't go with him!"_

"_Don't let his lies cloud your judgement!" _

"_Get away from here!"_

_Confused by the voices, England yelled, "I can't move!" _

_However the voices didn't respond to him. The voices eventually died down as they had before, leaving England in the ringing silence. The Brit shifted a bit, trying to see if there was a way for him to get out of these vines. Nothing budged. _

_A cold voice near England spoke up, "You have a choice brother. Choose to be the sheep and follow the rest of the herd or be the beaten dog that chooses to trust his abusive owner. Your life belongs to no one else but yourself."_

_England tried looking around, wanting to see who was speaking to him. This voice also seemed distantly familiar too, but he couldn't identify where he had heard this voice before. He asked pleadingly, "Please, can you help me out of these vines? I can't move at all." _

_Sadly, the voice ignored England's pleas and instead continued to speak, "Don't let hate fill you. Don't let hate guide you, govern you, rule over you or even advise you. Stay away from hate."_

_Seeing that no one was going to help him out of the vines anytime soon, England decided to help himself. He shifted around, ignoring the pricking of the thorns and tried seeing what he could do. One arm was still trapped by the vines but both his legs were free. He experimentally stretched his legs and found that his feet were pressing against the vines. England frowned and pushed his legs harder against the vines, wanting to see how strong the vines were. _

_Surprisingly, he felt that when he pushed against the vines, he moved forward… right through the vines. He couldn't feel the thorns and it was as if the vines were melting away as he pushed himself more against them. _

_He abruptly found himself outside of the cocoon of vines, wriggling his way out. He thus found himself floating in the air again, gasping as he tried to catch his breath. He looked down at his hands and was horrified to see that they were bloody and raw. But he couldn't feel the pain! _

_England turned around and saw the vines disintegrate into nothingness. He then spotted figure standing not far from him. It looked like a young man and while he resembled Wales on a certain level, his lighter hair colour and scruffy chin convinced England that it wasn't Wales._

_Just as he was about to demand a reason from this person for refusing to help England out, the man cut him off sharply, "Hate is unpredictable and it will always seek to hurt you and your family. Don't listen to hate's words and especially don't let it enter your heart, for it will only tear and rip at you until you no longer have the energy to keep going. Love the hate, for it is only then that hate will be defeated." _

_Before England could ask anything, he suddenly felt whatever was keeping him floating in the air disappear and he was plummeting downwards, away from the man and the red and yellow sky. He looked down and saw the darkness rushing upwards to meet him, tainting the whole sky in black. _

_The Brit fell for a few more seconds before he landed on his stomach on something dark that was hard and fluid at the same time. He slid down the near-invisible object but then he saw that it was turning into a limb. _

_Without any warning, the limb turned and twisted around England, wrapping itself around England's waist and squeezing hard. England tried struggling free but he felt that the limb was raising him upwards, a giant hand eventually morphing out of the limb. England panicked and tried kicking free but the fingers held his back against the palm tightly, even pinning his arms to his sides._

_England looked up and he saw the familiar frenzied green eyes of the dark voice. It grinned widely as it tightened its grip around England's waist, making the small nation cry out in pain as he felt his rib cage coming dangerously close to being crushed._

_**Well, well, who have we here? Back again so soon? Allow me to welcome you on my terms…**_

* * *

Isle of Man winced painfully as he heard a loud crash come from the library in the other room. Other island avatars looked up from the books they were poring over while the Manx avatar stood up and walked out of the study room into the library.

"Can you please be more careful with the books? Some of them are quite old, I really don't want them damaged," Isle of Man scolded crossly as he spotted the crumpled remains of a bookcase and the books on a heap on the ground. The mountain of books shifted as Orkney, Shetland and Iona crawled out from the avalanche of books. Shetland looked affronted by Isle of Man's words and was about to retort when she started coughing on the amount of dust that the books had been filled with.

Orkney sneezed a few times but he managed to reply hoarsely, "We would love to be more careful if you bothered to replace your bookcases every few decades or so. Honestly, the whole structure collapsed on top of us when Iona reached out for a book." He shot the other island avatar an annoyed glance, to which Iona could only smile rather sheepishly.

Iona coughed awkwardly as she brandished the guilty book in question. She mumbled, "Well, I got the book that I wanted…"

"Is everyone alright?" Wales questioned as he approached the other avatars, looking worried. The crash had been loud enough after all. The island avatars were picking themselves up from the ground and brushing the dust off.

Shetland spoke up, sighing slightly, "We're all fine, thank you for your concern. At the very least we know that another avatar values our well-being."

Isle of Man rolled his eyes at Shetland's comment as he started stacking the books together again. He sniffed, "I shall not apologise, any of you could have damaged a very valuable book with this crash. Broken bones mend. Damaged books are permanent."

"Spare us of your infatuation of books," Orkney muttered in exasperation, rolling his eyes at the Manx avatar. He grumbled, "Anyway, the only reason we're here is because we want to help you. We can leave just as easily if you can't appreciate our efforts."

The Celtic nation looked at Orkney silently for a moment before shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly and going back to stacking his books. Orkney let out a huff and he turned to Shetland, demanding, "Tell me, why did we come over again?"

Shetland shrugged as she answered, "Perhaps because there was nothing else of interest to do and you said that it sounded like a fun challenge."

"Fun challenge?" Isle of Wight exclaimed as he passed them by, carrying about 9 books precariously stacked on top of each other. He looked at Orkney and Shetland incredulously, blabbering, "Bloody impossible is more likely! We've been at this the whole day, night is falling already. We have all those books to go through and those are the books which are just based on Celtic mythology. Imagine if we had to take on Scandinavian and Anglo-Saxon mythology as well?"

"Are we sure we don't have to cover those areas too?" Anglesey questioned quietly as she approached Isle of Wight, taking some of the books off of him so that he wasn't struggling as much with them as before.

Wales shook his head and he replied, "Thankfully not, we would have had to do that if every avatar of the British Isles had heard the screaming. As it was only us Celtic nations who heard the screams, then it has to be connected to a Celtic mythical creature. According to Scotland, possibly a person of the mounds."

"Hold on, didn't England hear it too? He isn't a Celtic nation last time I checked," Iona asked curiously, looking at Wales in confusion.

"It was his ego that screamed and whatever kind of nation England is, his ego is firmly embedded into his mind. And apart from him, only the Celtic nations heard the scream. So we need to figure out what the ego is because clearly it's more than just that," Wales explained.

"Hey everyone, maybe we should start putting together a list of possible suspects?" Brittany proposed loudly as she entered the library, carrying several sheets of paper in her hands. "You know, we really need to shorten it and decide which are the most likely creatures that could be England's ego."

"I suppose we should," Isle of Man agreed heavily as he finished stacking the books, standing up to walk towards the Breton avatar. He took the papers from her and looked through them, looking through the scribbled names that various avatars had taken down from books. He sighed tiredly as he pointed out, "But it will be impossible for us to make an exhaustive list. The books can only tell us so much, they're really not a good substitute for real experience, especially in this area. The Otherworld is not something that can be easily described or understood. Scotland and Ireland may actually have to talk with an inhabitant of the Otherworld to get better answers."

Iona frowned at that. She inquired, "But Mann, don't you always say that half of them are hostile and the rest are incredibly dangerous? How're Ireland or Scotland going to approach any of them?"

Shetland laughed as she replied apprehensively, "Ireland and Scotland will have to find someone who doesn't hate them too much and is too dead to care about snatching their lives away."

"It's not like they have much choice to begin with…," Isle of Man mumbled, looking at the list of names worriedly.

* * *

Ireland sighed tiredly as he dragged himself back to his hotel room. Judging by the faint throbbing in his head, he was going to have a massive hangover tomorrow. He probably shouldn't have drunk so much today but it couldn't be helped.

…Maybe it could have but it was too late to worry about it. All Ireland could do is get a few hours of sleep and hopefully the hangover would be manageable in the morning. Ireland certainly didn't feel like facing the last meeting with a pounding head.

Once Ireland reached his hotel room, he was surprised to find that the door had been left unlocked. Had he forgotten to lock it? Or had England returned and forgotten to lock it? Either way, that wasn't a very smart move. Ireland frowned tiredly as he pushed the door open, closing it behind him quietly as he entered the pitch black darkness of the room. He allowed his eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness of the room and he looked towards England's bed just to make sure that his brother was there. He was surprised to find that England wasn't on his own.

His expression became incredulous as he approached England's bed, looking closely at the sleeping American with his arms wrapped around the Brit. Ireland raised a suspicious eyebrow, briefly considering whether he should kick America out of the room. It was one thing sleeping next to England's bed, but it was entirely a different thing sharing the bed like that! Honestly, Ireland was completely aware of America's feelings towards England and this was borderline unacceptable!

…Then again, Ireland supposed he shouldn't jump to conclusions so quickly. He remembered that the past England used to talk about how America as a colony often requested to share England's bed when he had nightmares. The situation here could be just as innocent as that, though America was really becoming too big for this kind of stuff.

Though his old-fashioned side loathed tolerating it, Ireland eventually let the sleeping American be. He'd had his dose of drama today, he truthfully didn't think he could face anything else except sleep. He walked quietly to his side of the room, staring at his empty bed contemplatively. Though his mind briefly wandered towards Scotland and what had happened today, Ireland shied away from the thought and he fiercely shook his head to clear his mind. Ireland really didn't want to think about it anymore, he was already too upset about it.

Even though Ireland seemed to have non-verbally agreed to a truce with Scotland, a part of him was still reeling from Scotland's confession. Scotland had understood that the "truce" was built on very weak ground and had wordlessly split away from Ireland when they had reached the hotel. The Irish nation assumed that the Scot was going to stay with Cornwall's and Northern Ireland's room, at least he hoped that this was the case. No matter how angry Ireland was against Scotland, he couldn't deny that the Scot shouldn't be treated as an outcast.

Ireland felt his phone vibrate in his pocket all of a sudden, causing the Irish nation to snap out of his thoughts and focus on what message he had received. He was surprised to discover that the message was from Isle of Man. The Manx avatar very rarely used technology, Ireland hadn't been even fully certain if he knew how to write a text message. Ireland opened the message and began to read it.

Hmm, it seemed like Scotland decided to write to Isle of Man to ask him about the people of the mounds. Isle of Man explained in his message that he and a few other avatars of the British Isles had grouped together in the effort of compiling a list of possible suspects to discover what the dark voice was.

Sadly it didn't sound like they had managed to make a conclusive list, Isle of Man warned that the list was very long. He went on to advise Ireland that he or Scotland will probably need to contact someone from the mounds and ask them personally. Ireland's eyes widened as he read who Isle of Man was proposing. Lugh? The pagan Celtic god skilled in all arts?

Well, Lugh was a good choice as he possessed a lot of knowledge and would definitely know what was going on with England's dark voice. The problem? Well, Lugh kind of hated nations. He disliked any type of avatar in general. How was Ireland going to get his attention and get him interested in the dark voice at the same time? Ireland groaned quietly as he sat down on his bed heavily and then leaned back to lie on the bed. The Irish nation looked at the ceiling of the room silently, wondering how he was supposed to get Lugh's help in this matter. The last time Ireland had seen that pagan god, Lugh had literally toyed with him as a cat would with a mouse. Ireland had vowed after the encounter to never speak to Lugh ever again.

And yet, Lugh was perhaps the best option available. He was one of the very few Children of Danu who would now and again willingly reappear in this world and it was certain that Lugh knew the Otherworld inside out.

Ireland sighed heavily. Why did fate insist on being so cruel to him?

* * *

America woke up the next morning at the sound of someone moving around in the room. The American blinked blearily as he tried to get rid of the sleepiness in his eyes. Once his eyes focussed, America saw Ireland on the other side of the room who was changing into fresh clothes.

The Irish nation was grumbling softly under his breath, rubbing his forehead now and again. Probably was suffering from a hangover, knowing the Irishman and his love for drinking. Just as Ireland pulled a shirt onto him, he caught sight of America's opened eyes from across the room

Ireland stopped in his movements and watched America curiously with a raised eyebrow before he broke in an amused smirk, "So, one of the lovebirds has finally woken up?"

"Lovebird?" America questioned slowly before his face reddened in embarrassment. He sputtered unbelievingly, "I-I'm not… I m-mean he's not… no, we're no- you know… yet, but…this isn't what you think… how do you even know?"

"My do we have a firm grasp of the tongue this morning," Ireland snickered while he returned to dressing himself, reaching from a tie.

"Me, England and some others watched some horror movies last night. England fell asleep so I brought him back here and then I had to stay with him to protect him from the evil ghosts," America tried explaining convincingly.

"More like protecting yourself!" Ireland scoffed while walking over to his chair to reach out for a jacket. Before America could protest or deny the (unfortunately correct) statement, Ireland looked at America and continued, "Well anyway, stop hugging Sasana like he's a teddy. I still can't understand how you haven't managed to suffocate someone with that strength of yours yet."

"My strength is only meant to protect and deliver justice. Not hurt anyone from the good side," America pouted but nevertheless still released England and sat up carefully so as not to wake up England. He looked around the room curiously before he asked Ireland, "Where's Scotland?"

Ireland paused in his movements, looking at America quietly with an unreadable expression. America returned the gaze evenly, genuinely curious to know what had happened. He hoped that Ireland and Scotland hadn't fought yesterday, though America couldn't find any bruises on Ireland. But who knew?

When Ireland didn't answer America, he decided to press further. America joked lightly, "I mean, you didn't murder him last night, did you?"

The Irish nation seemed unimpressed by America's humour and answered lowly, "He spent the night in Corn na Breataine's and North's hotel room."

"Did you guys make up yesterday?" America questioned hopefully, even though he suspected that wasn't the case considering how cold Ireland still seemed to be. What had Scotland said for Ireland to be this upset at Scotland?

"…Meiriceá, this is none of your business," Ireland answered shortly, turning his back to America as he finished preparing himself.

"But-"

"Meiriceá!" Ireland exclaimed angrily, turning around to glare at the American. After a few stunned seconds of silence, he continued quietly, "This is between me and Alba. I do not want you or anyone else butting in. So will you please drop it?"

America frowned at Ireland's words but decided not to push the matter. Ireland seemed irritated enough as it was. Realising that he was still in bed, America started moving slowly to get out.

Despite his best efforts not to wake England up, the island nation still woke up after America had stood up from the bed. England opened his eyes slowly and blinked a few times, yawning loudly as he stretched himself. He sat up and saw America and Ireland, greeting them with a sleepy "Good morning."

America grinned widely, "Hey England, did you sleep well? I don't think you even had a nightmare, right?"

England scratched his head as he considered the question for a moment. He then shook his head and answered, "…No, I didn't have a nightmare this time."

"Are you sure?" Ireland questioned slowly, looking a bit doubtful of England's answer. England nodded his head vigorously at his older brother's question. Ireland looked a bit unconvinced but he eventually said, "Alright, that's great to hear Sasana."

The Brit gave a small smile as he slid out of bed, going to stand beside America. America noticed that Ireland was staring at both of them quietly, prompting the North American to ask, "What's wrong Ireland?"

Ireland grimaced a bit as he pointed out, "Meiriceá, you do know that we still have one meeting left today to conclude the World Meeting, correct?"

"Well, duh?" America rolled his eyes and sighed, ruffling his hair. He wanted the World Meeting to be over already. He became aware that Ireland was still staring at him oddly.

"So…" Ireland began, sounding unsure.

"Yeah?" America was starting to wonder what England's elder brother was on about.

"Wouldn't you want to change into more… fresh clothes?" Ireland finally asked.

America blinked slowly and looked down at himself, taking in the rumpled clothes he had slept in. _My clothes? _Suddenly realization hit America hard as he realized that he was still in his rumpled T-shirt and jeans. Not a very acceptable attire for a meeting!

"Oh shit, how much time do I have left before the meeting!" America exclaimed in panic, looking at Ireland and England desperately.

"Not enough-" Ireland began but was promptly cut off by the American.

"Never mind, I'll dash to my room and try to get changed in time. See ya guys at the meeting!" With that, America turned and sprinted out of the room, bursting through the door and disappearing down the hall to his room.

Both island nations stared after America silently, at loss at what they should say. Finally Ireland coughed, "Sasana, you might want to get changed as well."

England jolted in realization as he looked down on himself. He hurriedly turned to the chair next to his bed to get fresh clothes. Ireland looked down at his watch and muttered something about time limit. Just as England pulled his shirt off for a fresher one, he noticed the alarmingly large bruise he had around his waist. Casting a furtive glance at Ireland, England quickly changed his shirt and covered the bruise up, hoping that no one would see it.

* * *

A few hours passed and Germany was able to conclude the World Meeting without too much difficulty. Considering how chaotic some of the meetings had been during the week, it was quite a miracle Germany hadn't simply given up by this point. There was a sense of relief in his voice as he carried out the last speech, telling everyone that he hoped that the next World Meeting would be less eventful as this one.

When he was reminded by Austria that the next World Meeting would be taking place in December, Germany went on to explain that the following World Meeting would be an informal meeting and would last just a day rather than a week. England wondered why have a meeting at all but Ireland explained to him in a low voice that while it was expected by their bosses that the embodiments of the nations meet monthly, when Christmas season rolled around, the nations were so caught up with the festivities that barely anyone paid attention during the meeting. So the Christmas World Meeting tended to be just a relaxed event where the nations could meet up but were free to do what they wanted. Germany also announced that this time the World Meeting would take place at his place.

England was about to ask what Christmas was exactly but Ireland silently shook his head, mouthing that he would explain later. England noticed that Germany was sending them annoyed glances, prompting England to stay silent and keep his attention on the meeting as India stood up to thank everyone for having come and she hoped that everyone had enjoyed her home and her people.

Thus the meeting ended on a high note, as everyone knew that the next meeting wouldn't be nearly as heavy as this one had been, despite the fact that some of the heavier meetings had been interesting. It was also a bonus though that the next meeting would be shorter. And so all the nations dispersed as they made their way back to the hotel to collect their stuff and go home.

However, not everyone was leaving immediately. Ireland, Scotland and Cornwall fell back as the other nations left the meeting room and Germany walked up to them. They all bore serious expressions and Germany briefly asked them if they could now explain what had happened yesterday, as the German nation had only managed to obtain snippets of information.

While both Ireland and Cornwall nodded solemnly, Scotland turned his attention to England and Northern Ireland and told them that they could wait outside, that they wouldn't be long. Of course suspicion immediately set in for both Northern Ireland and England. Why were they being sent outside?

"It's nothing that you two haven't heard of before. You don't need to hear everything being repeated, aye?" Scotland explained, giving the unconvinced brothers a weak smile.

"Then why can't we stay?" England demanded, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at Scotland suspiciously.

"Exactly, since you aren't going to say anything we haven't heard of before," Northern Ireland added, his eyes narrowing as Scotland's smile became even more uneasy and forced. Scotland grimaced slightly as he saw that neither of the younger brothers were going to leave the meeting room willingly.

"Well, it's just something that we older brothers have to discuss with Germany… there's nothing to worry about and you two will be bored silly anyway. So just stay out for a while, we'll try to be wrap this up quickly," Scotland explained hastily as he grasped England's and Northern Ireland's shoulders and steered both younger nations out of the room.

Once they were out, the doors were swiftly closed behind them with a bang. Both England and Northern Ireland let out irritated huffs simultaneously, knowing full well that Scotland hadn't been truthful and they felt it was necessary to discuss something behind their backs.

"Honestly, we really shouldn't allow them to nudge us here and there and not let us have a final say in anything," England complained, turning around to glare at the closed doors. What were their elder brothers up to again? What subject was so sensitive that they couldn't bear to have either England or Northern Ireland hear it?

"That will only ever happen when they stop pulling out their "older brother" card. Which of course I doubt they'll ever relinquish," Northern Ireland muttered lowly, sighing quietly. He was silent for a moment and then he questioned slowly, "Should we try eavesdropping on them?"

England shook his head as he replied, "We can always pester one of them later on…"

"I suppose so," Northern Ireland sighed, turning away from the door and beginning to walk. England turned and followed the younger UK nation, falling in step with him. They walked in silence for a moment, both caught up in their own thoughts.

Wanting to break the silence, England looked up at Northern Ireland, noticing that Prussia's features were starting to fade, making him seem like a strange combination of himself and Prussia. England asked curiously, "I suppose the spell is already starting to wear off, yes?"

The Irish nation nodded, sounding glad as he replied, "Thankfully yes, it feels strange looking into the mirror and not being able to recognize yourself. I shouldn't be so annoyed with Cornwall but he is completely out of practice with magic and shouldn't have used a spell on us when his skills were so rusty. A mistake was bound to happen and thank God it was just a small one."

England hummed in agreement and he became thoughtful again. He then questioned Northern Ireland, "So, how long do you think we will have to wait for them? A few minutes, thirty minutes or an hour?"

Northern Ireland shrugged his shoulders helplessly and then allowed his arms to fall limply at his sides tiredly. He briefly stopped walking as a flash of pain appeared on his face. England stopped as well and looked up at Northern Ireland, questioning inquisitively, "What happened?"

"Don't worry, I just brushed my bruise… it's still a bit sensitive," Northern Ireland explained quickly, smiling at the worried English nation.

England frowned at the answer and looked at the younger Irish avatar anxiously. He tentatively looked down at Northern Ireland's abdomen, wondering how much of the bruise still remained. He asked quietly, "Are your ribs still broken?"

"No, those have long healed. It's just the bruise that's still sensitive…," Northern Ireland answered, scratching the back of his head. He added uncertainly, "It's just strange that it isn't fading as quickly as it should."

"That is peculiar…," England admitted, looking apprehensive. Why wasn't the bruise gone yet? Had the dark voice's attack damaged Northern Ireland more than he let on? He'd have to ask the other brothers about it.

"Hey, England! Northern Ireland!" A familiar voice called out after England and Northern Ireland. Both island avatars turned around to see America approaching them.

Once the American was in front of them, he asked curiously, "So, are you two doing anything now that the World Meeting is finished?" America seemed elated as he said this, he seemed happy that the World Meeting was finally over.

"You mean now?" England questioned, looking up at America.

"Yeah, you guys have something planned? Are you sticking around or are you going home right now?" America asked inquisitively.

England shook his head, "No, we don't have anything planned. We're just waiting for our other brothers, they're discussing something with Germany. Why're you asking?"

"Well, I was just wondering if you guys wanted to come with me and fool around in the indoor swimming pool that our hotel has. I keep hearing about it but I never got the chance to go there and check it out myself. How about it?" America grinned widely, looking excited.

A wave of apprehensiveness washed over England. England turned his head to stare at Northern Ireland and saw an almost identical expression on his face. The Brit turned to gaze at America, staring at him with a "Are you serious?" expression on his face. America seemed a bit surprised by the reaction.

"Come on England, it'll be fun!" America declared, trying to sound reassuring and convincing.

England still looked unconvinced, starting to look down at his feet and shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. America seemed mystified by England's reaction.

"What's wrong?" He asked curiously.

"…not sure I want to go," England mumbled uncertainly, not meeting America's gaze.

"How about you?" America questioned Northern Ireland, turning to look at the younger UK nation. Northern Ireland shook his head after a few moments, his expression adamant. America frowned in confusion at that, prompting him to demand, "Why not? It's not like you two are afraid of the water or anything…"

England considered the thought for a moment, wondering how best to express his unwillingness to go to the swimming pool. He eventually saw that it was no use to beat around the bush, he might as well be straightforward about his reasons for not wanting to be near water. He nodded and finally looked at America. "Yes, I, for one, am scared. I don't want to be near the water at all."

America was puzzled by the answer. He seemed to think it over, trying to figure out the reason behind England's answer. "Because of that memory?" America blurted out, looking at England seriously. The island nation nodded his head hesitantly, feeling that his eyes were betraying just how scared he was.

"How about you?" America asked Northern Ireland.

Northern Ireland simply shrugged as he looked down at the ground. He replied, "I've been given more reasons to stay out than to get in. I just don't feel like swimming."

"So, like England, you also can't swim?" America questioned, though it seemed like he had already come to the conclusion that this was the case.

"I-I, uh… n-no, I never said anything like that!" Northern Ireland spluttered, shaking his head.

America grinned widely as he responded, "But your reaction just confirmed it. Wow, both of you live on islands and neither of you can swim? But isn't it a bad idea not to know how to swim?"

"I don't need to learn how to swim…," England muttered, rubbing his arm uncomfortably. He really didn't want to be near the water at all, the bad memory was too fresh for him to consider going near it.

"If you don't face your fear, what will you do when you are in a situation where you have to swim?" America asked reasonably, trying to convince England. "Look, I can teach you two how to swim. You don't need to be afraid of it, I'll be there and I'll make sure you guys won't sink."

England seemed startled by the offer and he half-heartedly argued, "But then we'll only be a burden to you… you wouldn't have fun."

America snorted at that. "As if you could believe that yourself. We'll have fun England, the three of us!"

"But we don't have any swimming trunks." Northern Ireland pointed out nervously, England nodding in agreement. Both island avatars seemed eager to come up with any kind of excuse to not to go to the swimming pool. But America wasn't going to be fooled.

The American laughed and shook his head in amusement, walking around England and Northern Ireland and started nudging them in the direction of the hotel. He declared, "Then we'll just buy some. Neither of you are going to be able to avoid this so stop looking for excuses. As a hero it is my duty to teach you how to swim!"

England and Northern Ireland looked between each other uneasily, both sighing simultaneously as they mentally prepared themselves for the event to come.

* * *

"America honestly shouldn't have been in such a hurry to leave, or else he would have known about this discussion and he would have stayed behind," Canada sighed, knowing that he was going to have to fill America in on the discussion as the American would surely be interested.

"Err, we were actually not thinking that any of you were going to stay behind. We just wanted to explain a few things to Germany, nothing more," Ireland explained, looking at the other nations cautiously. Apparently Canada, Australia, New Zealand and India had decided to stick around when they saw that England's brothers were talking to Germany.

"None of you have to actually stay here, it doesn't really concern any of you," Scotland suggested to the ex-colonies, smiling a bit grimly.

Australia shook his head firmly as he stated, "No way mate, we're not going anywhere without answers. I want to know just as much as everyone else what exactly attacked Northern Ireland yesterday and what is going to happen from there."

Germany looked uncertain as he questioned, "So if I understood correctly, you're telling me that the one behind the attack and injury of Northern Ireland is the ego of England? But how is that possible? An ego shouldn't be capable to do this."

"Do you have an idea of what it could be?" New Zealand asked hesitantly, looking at Scotland and Ireland.

Both Celtic nations looked between themselves and then Ireland replied uneasily, "We think England's ego could actually be an aos sidhe, a person of the mounds."

"Person of the mounds?" India echoed, frowning slightly. The name seemed to sound familiar to her.

Canada thought hard as he tried remembering where he had heard of the "aos sidhe" from. The name was definitely familiar, he'd heard it a few times when he had been younger. Hold on, didn't Scotland used to tell Canada stories about the aos sidhe? He asked the Scot, "Wait, aren't those mythical creatures from your homeland? You used to tell me stories about them…"

"They're actually widespread all over the British Isles, but yeah, you're thinking of the right creatures," Scotland affirmed, looking worried.

Cornwall, who was starting to look more like himself since the spell was starting to wear off, asked apprehensively, "But isn't that bad news for England? The people of the mounds are very dangerous and unpredictable. Which creature could it be?"

Ireland shrugged, "There are too many to choose from. The only thing we're certain of is that Sasana's dark voice is not natural and it is potentially dangerous to Sasana. It has proven that it can hurt physically instead of just verbally and mentally."

"What are you planning to do now?" Germany questioned England's brothers, looking very much disturbed.

"I'll be taking England and Northern Ireland back to my home to keep an eye on them, make sure no unexpected development occurs with the dark voice," Scotland answered, turning his head to look at Ireland a bit nervously.

Ireland however did not look at the Scot and instead added, "We're not sure whether North has suffered any permanent damage yet and we will have to start searching for the suspect that might have originally invaded Sasana's mind."

"Oh, is that the reason why you guys nudged your younger brothers out?" India inquired, causing Canada to remember that he had seen Scotland pushing England and Northern Ireland out of the room after the meeting had concluded.

Canada frowned in disapproval as he demanded, "So you're trying to save England and Northern Ireland from their fears? That can't be good, they need to be aware of what is happening. This is about them, after all."

The Irish nation sighed as he replied, "Trust me Ceanada, we're not keeping our brothers ignorant very easily. I'm not planning on keeping them ignorant endlessly. It's simply too difficult right now to know what will happen. We never expected Sasana's ego to be that strong and now we don't know how much stronger it can get. We're not even sure if maybe a fragment of the dark voice remained in North. If we were to make them aware of all this, they'll be endangering themselves by getting scared. Fear shows that you're not secure of your abilities. If Sasana's ego picked up on that fear… I don't even want to consider what that ego would do to inflict pain on our brothers. Better leave them ignorant for a while to avoid anything like yesterday from happening again."

After a moment, Canada found himself assenting to Ireland's explanation. When putting it that way, it did seem to make sense to keep that knowledge from England and Northern Ireland. Still, it seemed cruel to have them unknowing that their fates were being discussed right now.

"You mentioned something about starting to search for a possible suspect… how exactly are you going to do that? If the ego has a supernatural origin, how're you going to discover what it is?" New Zealand pointed out, looking genuinely confused.

"It certainly isn't an easy task, but Ireland is going to try and find a certain inhabitant of the Otherworld to gain more specific information on who or what we should be looking for," Scotland explained.

Ireland nodded, "Yes, I'll try to find and talk with Lugh, hopefully he'll know something about Sasana's dark voice…"

"You're going to find… loo?" Australia repeated the name, seeming confused by the pronunciation.

"No, Lugh. He's an Irish pagan deity who is very skilled but has a very unpredictable nature," Ireland corrected, looking a bit uneasy at the thought.

"What happens if you don't find him?" Germany asked seriously, clasping his hands as he looked directly.

Ireland looked back at Germany and his expression grew determined as he responded, "It usually takes about 4 days for a message to go from this world to the centre of the Otherworld. Normally though it could take less. I'll look for Lugh for about 5 days and if he does not respond, I will bring Alba with me and we'll both search for him. On the 7th day, if he still hasn't responded, I'll bring Alba, Sasana, and North with me. If I still don't get a response from him, I'll keep bringing more and more avatars until his curiosity gets the better of him and he comes forward."

"Do you really think that this Lugh will notice that you're trying to find him?" Canada inquired, trying to understand how Ireland was going to gain the attention of this Otherworld creature. It didn't sound very easy.

Ireland laughed, "Oh he will know that I'm looking for him quickly enough, but it is another question if he will respond to me. Given how much he dislikes me, I'm going to have to get him interested pretty strongly before he considers showing himself to me."

"So that's the plan for now?" Australia questioned, seeming thoughtful about something.

"What happens after you've found and talked with Lugh?" Germany asked curiously.

"Hopefully with his help, my brothers and I will make a shorter list of suspects and then we'll meet them individually so that we can find a match with the creature and Sasana's ego." Ireland replied.

India spoke up, "And then what?"

"Then we'll try and discover a way of getting rid of England's dark voice permanently…?" Scotland proposed uncertainly, looking at Ireland for some support. Though Canada could spot that Ireland's eyes seemed to be colder when regarding the Scot now, Ireland still nodded in agreement.

"Well that doesn't sound like it's going to be very easy…," Australia declared, smiling sympathetically at Scotland who was trying to mask his sadness that Ireland was still visibly cold towards him.

Scotland shrugged as he said, "It's like we say… easier said than done."

* * *

**A/N:**

And this was the latest installment of the story! ^^ Hope you all enjoyed it! Now, to the author notes:

I am really happy that I finally managed to introduce Brittany and Isle of Man into the story! With me being a fan of the Celtic nations, I was really itching to get these last two of the group in. Just a few notes on Isle of Man and Brittany. Isle of Man is a really quiet island and usually doesn't leave his home much, he visibly prefers his books than actual company. I was doing some reading on his history and I noticed that he's the only Celtic nation that has a Norse-Gaelic culture. He was under Viking rule for a period of time (9th-13th cent.) but what surprises me is that he became really loyal to the Scandinavian rulers. I think in 1275, the Scottish came to Isle of Man and they just said, "The Vikings should be kicked out of here, go back to Scandinavia where they belong." Isle of Man practically stated "How about no?" and the Scottish beat up the Manx and chased the Vikings out anyway. So relations between Scotland and Isle of Man were really not pretty for a long while, but they seem to have partially reconciled during the last century or so when they discovered their shared interest in reviving their Celtic culture. Brittany is also quite a significant Celtic nation as although she is the only one located on the European continent, she was the catalyst to forming the first Inter-Celtic Festival. I found that her history with France is extremely intertwined, it almost reads like a very dysfunctional marriage. ^^; She appears to be an energetic and stubborn region, refusing to give her identity up and becoming French.

A note on the banshee, or in it's un-Anglicized form, the Bean Sidhe (pronounced just the same). What many people constantly seem to forget about the banshee is not everyone will have the ability to hear them. Only the Irish and Scottish families that traditionally are said to have a banshee attached to their lineage will hear her wailing when a family member will die. There was one book that actually listed the Irish families that were said to have a banshee watching over them. Anyway, Ireland and Scotland asked a banshee a long time ago if she could watch over their family and she accepted, which is why Wales and Brittany were a bit panicked because they knew that there is a banshee who knows when they will die. And they've probably heard her a few times already. Brittany certainly doesn't try to hide the fact that she really dislikes banshees. If you're wondering, you pronounce "aos sidhe" as "aes shee". "Aos" means people and "sidhe" means mounds. ^^

Ah yeah, sorry about the poke at American airports, I've been reading a lot of stories about them recently. Not to sound mean, but I really wouldn't want to set foot in one of the American airports, simply because all this security checking makes me really stressed and nervous. Especially the security guards, they have a way of intimidating me. In general I dislike all airports thanks to all the security procedures. I think the most relaxed airport I've ever seen is Geneva in Switzerland and the most stressful one was in London, Heathrow. Seriously, those scanning machines that scan your passport and face! X_X I'm sure it's nothing like the TSA in America though.

On another note, I don't think I've ever come across a fanfic that draws attention on the fact that Prussia is an albino and most likey would have been mocked for his differences when he was younger. Among all the characters, how many are albinos? Only Prussia and Iceland. (yes, blue-eyed albinos do exist) So I do think that Prussia would know how it is to have something that makes you different from the others and being mocked for it. I doubt that when Prussia was born, people saw him and told him he looked awesome. Society ain't so nice. Anyway, I hoped I wrote Prussia well here. I don't know, I just kind of feel I went deeper into the character, I went past the ego-centric "I'm awesome" guy and tried writing him as a more complex character. I don't know if that made him too OOC, hopefully not. Sometimes you just want to explore beyond what you're given on a character.

Okay, I know I didn't go as deep into the movie arc as some people would have expected but I really didn't want to write in possible spoilers. I just felt like mentioning some of the movies I have seen and think are worth checking out, even when they're not the best. Like Dead Snow, not too bad of a movie but too much emphasis on gut-play, ie horrible stuff happening to people where their guts are graphically shown outside of the body. *shudder* I love the original version of Grudge, the American remake was just too violent and not enough suspense. I highly recommend REC and The Woman in Black, definitely films I'll watch again. The Black Sheep movie was not bad but I didn't really like all the gore. Though I did enjoy the creativity of the movie. Some of you will probably know why New Zealand got annoyed with Australia when he teased him about the movie. Anyway, I love watching non-English movies as they give a great insight on other cultures and mentalities. By the way, does anyone know the title of the movie where a woman is stuck in the subway and there is a monster roaming around? If I remember right, she was at first with a guy who tried raping her but then the monster came and killed the guy, though we don't see the monster? I saw a part of it but never caught the name of the movie. If you know which movie I'm referring to, it would be great if you could tell me. :) I love horror movies, even if I get horrible nightmares several weeks after watching them. Might go on to discover more of the non-English ones.

I hope you enjoyed the dream sequence! :D It is full of symbolism so have fun figuring it out. Though there is that darker undertone with England's newest bruise, it seems like the dark voice has remembered that it has the ability to inflict physical pain on England. But did England lie about his nightmare to Ireland and America? Or does he remember the dream at all? Does he feel pain? Hm-hm, things to think about my dear friends.

To finish on my notes, a small explanation about Lugh. He really is quite an interesting god, here are some of the stuff he's done in legends:  
# Shot a rock from his slingshot into his grandfather face and knocked his eye out from behind the skull. (though given, his grandfather was evil and they were in the middle of a battle and his grandfather had the ability to kill I think 9 people with one blink of his eye) (grandfather was something of an Irish cyclops if I remember right)  
# Had the three guys who killed his father do tasks that would put the 12 Labours of Heracles in shame and though they completed the task and were mortally wounded, he refused to help them and allowed them to bleed to death  
# He was so adamant that his son Cú Chulainn was supposed to be born in the real world so the boy was conceived three times and born twice (of two different women). Seems to have been mostly an absent father, though he did turn up during Táin Bó Cualinge where Cú Chulainn was fighting for the entire Ulster kingdom (all the other Ulstermen were in bed suffering from a curse that made them go into labour) and was fighting the 4 other kingdoms individually man after man.  
# Lugh seems to have been a Pan-Celtic God, was possibly at one point worshipped all over Europe where there were originally Celtic areas. At least Lugh has left his mark here and there. ^^

Alright, there is more to say but I've said enough already. So I'll let you guys go now. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. A few scenes to look forward to, eh? See ya soon! :)


	45. Chapter 44

Hello. Sorry for the late update, apparently it was nearly impossible to work on the story with my father constantly trying to stick his nose everywhere and on top of that, wanting to spend every minute with me. My father must suspect something as he has mentioned to me several times that I should start writing stories and he's convinced I could be the next J.K. Rowling. Now why would one start saying that when for most of his life, my father maintained that I'd make it big in poetry, something I'm not interested in? It's also driving me nuts that I know that my father is emotionally draining me at the same time. That's what he likes doing. He hates being on his own but when he is with someone, he is constantly taking energy away and draining the other. I'm tired. I feel horribly empty. I'm feel barely sane. My father looks perfectly happy making me feel empty while he skips away with happiness and my energy. I just... don't know what to do anymore. In a few days I will be leaving to join my mother in Switzerland. Maybe I'll get better there.

Sorry, I just had to get this burden off my chest. Also, I'll be going to my mother's place next Thursday until Saturday. Then I'll go to Croatia with my family (minus my father) and family friends for two weeks, where there will be "no-laptop" policy being put in place by my mother. So I won't be able to work on the story then. Perhaps I can start writing when I get back. I'm trying my best to keep updating and to keep the story interesting, but there are simply times where I don't have the heart.

Ah, I should just shut up. I'll let you get on to the newest chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Chapter 44 

"So, are you guys coming? The water won't bite you," America joked as he looked behind him, making sure that England and Northern Ireland were still following him. Both looked very apprehensive and the American wouldn't be surprised if they tried slipping away. America reached the edge of the swimming pool which was completely empty. Not one person was to be seen and no one had been there for a while, judging by how motionless the water surface was. They'd have the whole swimming pool to themselves!

Northern Ireland stepped out hesitantly, his arms wrapped around his bare chest. England followed just as cautiously, attempting to hide behind the younger yet taller UK nation. America smiled at them encouragingly as he walked towards them, commenting, "I hope those swim trunks fit you alright, I think they are fine…" America trailed off as he caught a glimpse of something on England that made him worried.

"What is it?" Northern Ireland questioned, looking uneasily at the way America had abruptly stopped talking. When he saw that America was looking behind him, North turned his head to look down at England. Since all three nations had been in different changing rooms, neither America nor Northern Ireland had seen what was painfully obvious by now.

"…England, where did that bruise come from?" America asked, his voice sounding a bit hoarse as he tried not to wince at the sight of the bruise. Northern Ireland moved away so that he could see what America was looking at. His eyes widened when he saw the large bruise that England was half-heartedly trying to conceal.

The ugly bruise stretched all around England's waist, as if he had been squeezed mercilessly by a giant hand. England looked down at his bruise slowly and then he looked up uncertainly at America and Northern Ireland, replying with a shrug, "I don't really remember…"

"How can you not? Your bruise is larger than mine." Northern Ireland blurted out worriedly, seeming to be comparing his own bruise that was starting to fade and England's bruise. America found himself agreeing to Northern Ireland's words, England's bruise was larger. But where had it come from? Who had dared to hurt England?

"But I really can't remember!" England insisted, looking completely lost and confused. He stared at his bruises before suggesting, "Maybe I got it yesterday when you were squeezing me when you got scared during the horror movies?"

America frowned at the suggestion, becoming thoughtful. He looked quizzical as he pointed out, "But I was sure I wasn't squeezing you that hard, I didn't want to hurt you…"

"It wouldn't be the first time that you bruised me." England added with a sigh as he shrugged again, trying to appear nonchalant to the two other nations. He seemed quite uneasy by the fact that no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't remember when he had gotten such a large bruise. It didn't even hurt or feel sensitive!

"What do you mean by that?" Northern Ireland demanded, looking at England in alarm before turning to look at America with narrowed eyes.

America quickly shook his head as he hastily replied, "Nothing, nothing, you don't have to worry about it." He certainly didn't want to tell Northern Ireland what had happened when America had squeezed England too hard by the shoulders, the younger Irish nation could easily go and report to the elder brothers. The last thing America needed was England's brothers breathing down his neck and watching his every move around England.

An unconvinced Northern Ireland was about to continue demanding answers when England burst out exasperatedly, "LOOK, can we just… concentrate on something else? It's just a bruise, nothing's broken. And it doesn't even hurt me. So we can ignore it, can't we?"

Northern Ireland and America looked at each other, both their expressions expressing their doubts over this proposition. Was it wise to ignore such a large bruise? Especially when it didn't hurt according to England and it had seemingly appeared out of nowhere? Honestly, America wasn't so certain. Sure a part of him longed to ignore the bruise and just focus on something more light-hearted and fun… and yet a cautionary voice at the back of his head was nagging him not to let this slide so easily.

England seemed to sense what kind of thoughts were going through America's mind and he frowned darkly. He reached out and grabbed America's fingers, pulling the North American nation's hand towards and laying it on his bruised stomach. England didn't wince, grimace or even flinch when America's hand touched his bruise. Then England released America's hand and grabbed Northern Ireland's hand and pulled it to his bruise as well. With two hands touching the bruise, England stared silently at America and Northern Ireland with determined eyes for a few seconds. Then he exclaimed, "See? It. Does. Not. Hurt. If it doesn't hurt, it isn't important. It's not permanent, it will eventually fade away."

"And what will you tell Scotland and the others if they catch sight of this bruise?" Northern Ireland questioned firmly, still looking very much worried over England.

At that England faltered, seeming less sure of himself suddenly. He answered hesitantly, "I'll come up with something, maybe I'll say I slipped in the bathroom or something…"

America was saddened to see England look so uneasy and scared. Maybe it was a better idea to focus on the swimming and once England and Northern Ireland discovered the fun in swimming, it would bring their minds off of the bruise. They could deal with the bruise later, it wasn't as if it was going anywhere.

Removing his hand from England's bruise, America straightened up and cleared his throat, causing England and Northern Ireland to turn their attention towards him. The American smiled a little as he asked, "So, are you two still up to swimming a bit in the pool?"

Although both UK nations seemed to remember where they were and why they were here, England still nodded swiftly despite the fact that both he and Northern Ireland seemed uneasy about the water again. But it was understandable, England was eager to leave the subject of his bruise behind. Northern Ireland however still seemed torn about it. He looked from England to America and then back to his "elder" brother. His expression was still a mixture of shock, worry and uneasiness but then these emotions seemed to morph into determination. To America's relief, the small Irish nation finally nodded but there was a hint of fierce resolve in his eyes. America wasn't sure what Northern Ireland had made up in his mind, but he was willing to bet that the younger avatar wasn't going to say anything about it.

Deciding not to question it, America took a few steps back and nodded towards the water, saying, "Come closer then." When he saw both nations hesitate in their steps, America decided to add teasingly, "It's not like you two are allergic to water, right?"

Northern Ireland looked a bit miffed by the poke of fun by the American and he haughtily responded, "I'm not that afraid of water, I've probably seen a lot more of it in my life than you have."

"Then prove to me that you're not afraid of it." America shot back, an amused grin appearing on his face. Northern Ireland was just as easy to tease as England, something that suited America quite well. Nothing like some playful teasing to break up the heavy atmosphere that had settled on the nations.

But Northern Ireland wasn't moving any closer to the water. He was instead staring at America suspiciously, no doubt expecting some foul trick to come from the American.

America chuckled as he reassured, "Hey I won't push or pull you in. Look, I'll even go in to prove it to you!" He turned to face the water and with a jump, dove right under it without the slightest bit hesitation. When he resurfaced Northern Ireland was staring him in surprise while England was watching him with an awed expression.

The Irish nation huffed as he took a few steps closer to the edge of the pool, looking at the clear water with an unconvinced expression. Northern Ireland then asked, "Don't England and I need water boards to support us?"

"Nah, that kind of stuff doesn't really help you," America replied dismissively and he swam closer to the edge of the pool.

Northern Ireland frowned as he argued, "Surely it would help England to have at least inflatable armbands?"

"Northern Ireland, swimming is an inborn thing for us. You have to be able to get used to the water without depending on those human things." America tried explaining patiently.

"But how are you sure that neither of us will sink?" England asked nervously, his voice almost coming out like a squeak. America noticed that England had been quiet for a while and it was most likely due to his nervousness of the water.

Before America could answer him though, Northern Ireland countered, "He's not. And I can only be thankful that I'm not scared of the water as well, I just don't know how to swim. That way I don't have to put all my trust in America if we both get into trouble."

"Hey, I can support both of you without any trouble! I swear, neither of you are going to drown while I'm around," America protested loudly. He suspected that Northern Ireland wasn't being truthful about him not being scared of water, or else he would have learnt how to swim a long time ago. America knew for a fact that both Ireland and Scotland were good swimmers. Logically Northern Ireland would have been taught by Scotland how to swim if he didn't fear water.

Northern Ireland shook his head at America's protest and looking up and down the pool, he spotted the ladder. He walked towards it and went slowly down the ladder to enter the pool. He immediately latched on to the ledge once he was fully in the water. Despite himself, America still asked, "Hey, you doing alright?"

The young Irish avatar nodded his head stiffly and managed to mumble, "P-perfectly, I am completely fine. I'm not scared of the water after all. Not a bit." While he was saying that, America could see that Northern Ireland was gripping the ledge very tightly. So much for being alright.

"If you say so…," America answered, barely repressing a sigh. He then turned to England and America could have sworn that he had taken a few steps back. The American tried smiling encouragingly at England as he said, "Come closer, nothing bad will happen England."

England bit his lower lip nervously as he padded closer to the water, keeping a safe distance from it. England walked slowly towards America, setting his feet warily on the wet ground. He crouched in front of America, staring at the younger nation with wide eyes as he waited for America to tell him what to do next.

America smiled as he gently patted the edge of the pool. "Sit down England, you can dangle your legs in the water, right? It's not like you're allergic to water, aren't you?" America teased lightly. England pouted as he understood that America was poking fun at him and with a huff he sat down at the edge and let his legs go down into the water.

He looked at America smugly, showing the American that he wasn't that scared. America smiled widely and declared, "Okay, next step!"

The Brit's smile fell and he stuttered, "W-what n-n-next step?" Before he could say anything else, America grasped him around the waist and pulled England into the water. The small island nation cried out in fear and tried scrabbling away, hastily climbing on America's head in a desperate attempt to avoid being submerged in water.

"Ow, ow, ow England, you're scratching me!" America exclaimed, trying to get England to release his hold on his head. Ouch, England had really sunk in his nails into America's skin! What was wrong with England? America cast a side glance to Northern Ireland who was just a short distance away from them. The American asked with a grimace, "Any help here please?" The Irish avatar just looked at America dumbly, not seeming to know what he should do.

"Don't do that America, you scared me! You were too quick, I thought you were going to drown me!" England wailed, shivering at the thought. America's movements had been too sudden for England, for a split second he had really believed America was going to push him underwater.

"England, I already told you I wouldn't hurt you. Look, I'm almost standing at this end of the pool so you won't sink as long as I'm around. Come on, trust me on this," America said calmly and encouragingly, slowly detaching England from his head. England reluctantly released America and the American placed the Brit back on the ledge.

Northern Ireland, using the ledge, pulled himself towards England and he questioned him worriedly, "Are you alright England?"

"Hey, what about me?" America demanded, pouting slightly. His head still felt a bit sore from where England had sunken his nails in. Northern Ireland turned to look at America briefly, before turning his attention back to England who was looking down at his laps. The Irish avatar then looked back at America with a raised eye-brow.

America inhaled quietly and he approached England, asking him calmly, "Do you want to try this again?"

Though looking very unsure, England nodded slightly as he looked from America to Northern Ireland with an uncertain expression. This time America decided to be slower and more careful than last attempt. He had to make sure that England wouldn't stress too much.

Reaching out cautiously, America grasped England around the waist again and slowly lowered him into the pool. He felt England tense up a bit, prompting America to slow down. When England was almost shoulder-high in water, England made a small panicked noise in the back of his throat and reached out to grasp America's arms tightly.

"Shhh, I'm not letting you go England. Relax…"America said soothingly and while England relaxed his grip, he didn't let go. When the water started overlapping England's shoulders, the Brit instinctively stretched his neck upwards. Just as America slightly loosened his grip on England, he pulled on America's arms and climbed onto his shoulder, breathing quickly.

Seeing England this nervous and afraid caused America's heart to ache, he didn't like seeing England being so scared. Northern Ireland was watching them quietly, keeping a close eye on England. Slowly America unhinged England from his shoulder and gently pushed him towards the edge of the pool.

Taking the hint, England frantically reached out for the edge and pulled himself to it, his knuckles white as he tightened his grip. He was breathing harshly now and for the first time, America wondered if England wasn't maybe too scared.

"Are you… okay England? Do you want to continue?" America asked calmly, swimming nearer to England. The island nation stared at America with conflicted eyes, biting his lower lip uncertainly.

After a while, England exhaled shakily as he mumbled, "I don't really know…"

America had to think a way of making England more comfortable in the water. What probably was scaring England the most was that he was unable to find purchase anywhere with his feet. He'd have to assume that this was the case with the way England was clinging to the edge of the pool fearfully. Northern Ireland seemed to be faring better but he wasn't relaxing his grip on the ledge either.

Maybe they should go to the shallower end of the pool? England and Northern Ireland might be able to relax more if they could stand up in the water. That is, if England was tall enough to stand in the shallow end… they'll have to see.

"Come on England, climb onto my back!" America suddenly chirped cheerfully, turning his back towards England. He looked behind him to see if England was coming. England looked completely surprised and unsure by the invitation, but after a moment of consideration, England pushed himself from the edge of the pool and hastily clambered onto America's back, holding on to his shoulders tightly.

America turned to look at Northern Ireland and told him, "And you'll follow me, okay?"

"How?" Northern Ireland questioned, looking completely at loss.

"Try dog-paddling!" America suggested, swimming a bit further to prompt the Irish avatar to follow him.

Northern Ireland frowned in confusion and even though he looked like he was going to attempt to follow America, he seemed reluctant to abandon the ledge that was keeping him from sinking underwater. He questioned after a few seconds, sounding utterly lost, "How do I dog-paddle?"

"Walk like a dog, the only difference is that you're in water." America replied, demonstrating to the Irish avatar how to do it. Dog-paddling was most likely the easiest mode of movement in water. Northern Ireland should be able to do it a little bit, provided he didn't panic and sank like a stone.

Still seeming unsure of what was expected from him, Northern Ireland let go of the ledge and started moving towards America, mimicking what America had done before. He managed to stay afloat a few seconds before he began to sink, causing him to briefly be submerged in water. Northern Ireland quickly kicked his way back to the surface and went back to the ledge, shaking his head to get the water out of eyes and sneezing out the water that had gotten into his nose.

"Northern Ireland, when you feel like you're sinking, kick your legs below you to keep your head out of the water." America proposed, moving more towards the shallower end with England still clinging to his back. He felt England shift slightly to watch Northern Ireland closely, which sort of relieved America since that meant England wasn't petrified with fear.

The younger avatar grumbled under his breath, looking rather annoyed as he saw America move with ease in the water. What seemed to frustrate him as well was that America was able to move in the water without any difficulty despite the added weight on his shoulders while Northern Ireland barely managed to move by himself.

Northern Ireland pushed himself away from the ledge again and attempted to follow America. Once he started sinking in the water, Northern Ireland tried kicking his legs below him to keep his head out of the water. Though he succeeded to a certain extent, he still visibly struggled as he wasn't use to the resistance offered by the water. Luckily the pool wasn't very big so he soon reached a point where he could feel the ground with the tip of his toes.

America, who had waited to see if Northern Ireland was following, began swimming towards the other shallower end of the pool. He hummed a little song under his breath in the hope of putting England more at ease. Once he had reached the other side of the pool, America slowly coaxed England down from his back.

"You should be able to stand here, I think you're tall enough," America declared hopefully, he supposed that if England stood up, the water should roughly reach only his shoulders. England was about that height, wasn't he?

England reluctantly let go of America and started to experimentally feel for solid ground under him. When he made contact with the bottom of the pool, the Brit slowly stood up to his full height and let fully go of America's arm. The water was past his shoulders but at least England's head was fully out of the water.

The island nation let out a shaky breath of relief, wrapping his arms around himself as he looked about him. He seemed to be trying to calm himself down and the fact that his head was out of the water and that his feet was on solid ground seemed to help him a great deal. America looked behind him to see if Northern Ireland was doing alright.

Having been able to feel the ground a lot earlier than England, Northern Ireland was walking up to them with a frustrated expression and looking a bit drained of energy. America grinned rather sheepishly and said, "See, it isn't that difficult to swim. You're really doing great Northern Ireland."

Northern Ireland huffed in annoyance and he grumbled, "I barely managed to avoid drowning like a puppy. There is absolutely nothing great to it. I would have been better off with a water board."

"Maybe, but it would have also made you more depended on it and if you're ever in a situation where your only option is swimming, you won't have the water board to help you out." America explained, smiling at Northern Ireland sympathetically.

The Irish avatar sighed and after a few moments of silent pondering, he asked, "Do you have the time America?"

"Umm, no… why d'you ask?" America replied, a bit confused by the sudden change in subject.

The young UK nation became more thoughtful as he explained, "Because I think my elder brothers have no idea where we are currently. I don't know how long we've been here and I'm beginning to wonder if they're searching for me and England."

"Well, they'll look around the hotel and they will eventually find you here. I don't see what the problem is," America commented, wondering where Northern Ireland was going with this.

Northern Ireland frowned and shook his head, countering, "The problem is that they have no idea where we are and they'll never think of looking here. They know that neither England nor I like water so why look near the swimming pool? They also have no way of knowing that we're with you so they'll probably assume that we've wandered off somewhere and they'll start panicking." As he said that, Northern Ireland looked around and saw that there was another ladder at the shallow end of the pool. He made his way towards it.

"So you're going to leave now?" America questioned, trying not to sound too disappointed that Northern Ireland was leaving. He had barely begun to grasp how to swim and he was already hurrying to leave?

"Yeah, I don't want my brothers to worry. They get very annoying when they're like that and then they won't quit demanding questions and tell us off for having left without telling them anything." Northern Ireland answered, climbing out of the water and gladly regaining a drier ground.

"Aww, you just want to get away from the pool because you don't want to swim," America mumbled, smiling knowingly at the younger nation. Northern Ireland briefly shot America a livid glare before turning his back on him.

Northern Ireland grumbled, "No, I just don't want to have a bunch of older brothers jumping on my back if I don't go and find them now." He started walking away and disappeared back into the changing rooms, leaving America behind with England.

America then turned to look at England and saw that the Brit had during the time become completely engrossed with the water. He had unwrapped his arms from around himself and was exploring how far he could go before the water deepened.

"So, do you want to try to swim a bit? We still have some time left…," America asked, a bit amused by how curious England was at discovering the water. He seemed far more at ease now than before, which was good.

"North left to find Ireland, Scotland and Cornwall?" England questioned, looking up from the water and staring at America inquisitively.

"Yes, but he might be a while before he finds the others and comes back here."

England nodded in understanding, looking thoughtful. He then asked, "So you want me to do what Northern Ireland did before? That… dog-paddling thing?"

"Yes, the first thing you should learn is probably dog-paddling. That is definitely the simplest way of swimming," America agreed, walking up to England.

Furrowing his brows, England mumbled slowly, "Walking… like a dog?" He raised his hands and stared at them before hesitantly diving one of his hands underwater and pushing against the water. He blinked in surprise at the feeling, it wasn't like air as he was met with some resistance but it wasn't very strong. England pushed his other hand underwater, his expression thoughtful.

"Come on, you can kick off. You can always stand up if you get scared." America said encouragingly. England looked at the American doubtfully but then pushed off the ground and attempted to keep his head above water. He immediately sunk and started panicking, standing up as he coughed out the water that had entered his mouth during his panic.

"Hey, hey, calm down England!" America bent down to the Brit to check on him. England coughed a few more times, his chest rising up and down rapidly. America carefully patted him on the back. "England, you have to relax more. If you tense up like that and stop breathing, you will sink like a stone. You must be comfortable with the water without having your feet on solid ground all the time."

"How do I do that?" England rasped, his voice a bit hoarse from the coughing. He looked down at the water, frustrated that he couldn't seem to let go of this fear of sinking underwater again. Had the memory of where he almost drowned been so traumatising?

America scratched his chin thoughtfully before asking, "England, I think I know a way but you'll have to trust me. Like really seriously trust me."

"Of course I trust you." England replied, staring at America with questioning eyes. America was silent as he looked down at England, deep in thought.

He then said, "Alright, don't move and don't panic England." England raised a thick eyebrow but after a moment of hesitation, England complied to America's odd directions and remained motionless. America bent down and gently grasped England around the waist and started lifting him. He then shifted his grasp so that England started leaning forward in the water. England tensed up at the change in position, started to squirm in America's grasp. America warned, "England, I'm not going to drop you. Please relax."

The island nation looked briefly confused by America's words but he ceased his struggles, beginning to breathe through his nose to calm himself down and he stretched his neck to avoid having his head sink more into the water. After a few seconds, England shakily questioned, "Wha-what are you doing?" He turned his head to look at America, seeming a bit lost.

America smiled sheepishly and answered, "Trying to get you to get used to being in the water without your feet touching the ground. We can't have you being always dependent on it. You know you're in the shallow end and I am there to hold you, so you can try a few paddles without panicking about drowning."

England shifted slightly, still trying to get used to being held by America and not being able to feel the ground under his feet. He cast America a doubtful gaze, seeming uncertain of what was expected from him. He touched the water carefully with one hand, practically skimming the surface of it. The island nation stared at the water carefully for a few minutes, his hand hovering over the surface of water.

"So, you up for a few paddles?" America asked happily. "You can also try a few kicks if you want." England stared at America silently before he turned his gaze back to the water. He narrowed his eyes carefully as he tentatively reached out to attempt his first stroke in the water.

It was then that America noticed something strange as he looked down at England's back. His expression became confused as he stated, "That's really strange…"

"What?" England demanded, freezing in place fearfully. He looked up at America, his eyes puzzled. However America did not meet his eyes as he continued staring in a perplexed manner at England's back.

America asked in bewilderment, "Your bruise… the one that went all around you… it's gone."

"It is?" England asked in surprise, attempting to look at himself to confirm the fact. America titled England a bit with his hands to check under his stomach and he came to the definite conclusion that the bruise had disappeared. It was as if it never had been there. But how could it be possible, he, Northern Ireland and England had seen the bruise itself! It was large, there was no way it could have disappeared so quickly.

It was as if the water had washed the bruise off!

"Well that's good then." England declared, sounding quite pleased as he stared at America.

The American frowned and shook his head uncertainly, saying, "England, I'm not sure if this is good at all. That large bruise came out of nowhere and you couldn't feel a thing. And just like that, it disappeared again. That's not a normal bruise." He pulled England out of the water and he held the Brit in front of him, staring worriedly at England's now-blank stomach.

England huffed quietly, "You really ought to stop worrying, there's nothing wrong with me. I felt no pain and it disappeared with no issue, so it's gone. Why continue thinking about it when it isn't there anymore?"

"Because I don't like how it appeared and vanished. It just makes me uncomfortable, why was it there to begin with and why all those oddities? I feel like it's almost like a warning," America sighed, not able to shake the feeling that he should be worried about this bruise's origin. Why couldn't England remember where it had come from? Why didn't it feel even sensitive to England when America touched the bruise? How could it disappear so easily?

England, still being held in the air by the American, frowned and squirmed in his grasp. He complained, "America, can you please put me down? I can't answer your questions, I'm even more clueless than you. All I know is that it's gone and to be perfectly honest, you should just forget that it was ever there."

"Why are you so bent on forgetting about the bruise?" America demanded, sounded a bit exasperated by how untouched England was by the whole ordeal. How could he not be freaking out about a strange bruise that didn't hurt?

"And why are you so obsessed about it?" England countered, looking quite annoyed. America sighed as he turned around and set England gently on the ledge of the pool, looking at the Brit seriously.

He explained slowly, "England, I would rather obsess over something stupid than ignore something that is potentially very dangerous for you." America stared into the eyes of the surprised island nation, trying to pass the message that he really cared about England and he couldn't bear the thought of ignoring something that might be dangerous for the Brit.

England looked very much surprised by America's confession, and after a few minutes of considering it, he saw that America did have a point. He nodded in understanding and then slid down the ledge, turning around to grasp the end just to make sure that he could simply drop himself back into the water.

He turned around and looked at America earnestly, pointing out, "While I do understand your point, there still isn't much that you can do. The bruise is gone and I don't see what else you could do about it…"

Unfortunately, America found himself agreeing to what England had said. He had no physical evidence that the bruise had ever been there. But he and Northern Ireland had seen with their own eyes that it used to be there. America's instinct insisted not to shove this incident aside.

The American became aware of water splashing and he looked down to see England attempting to dog-paddle. England stood up again, coughing and rubbing the water out of his eyes. When he noticed that he was being watched by an incredulous America, England simply shrugged and said, "We can talk about the bruise later America. It won't be returning on me any time soon anyway. I would just like to be able to forget everything for now, it's been a hard week for me."

America smiled sympathetically, patting England on the back gently. It certainly had been a harsh week for England, all the nightmares, memories and the dark voice must have taken their toll on England. Did all these things happen because he was surrounded by so many nations? Whatever the cause, England seemed to want nothing else but to drop the subject.

The smaller avatar gave America small smile before turning to attempt dog-paddling again.

* * *

About half an hour later, the heavy atmosphere between England and America had broken down and both nations were feeling more light-hearted. America had dutifully refrained from mentioning the bruise again, he was fully concentrated in helping England learn how to swim. Much to England's pride, the Brit had succeeded in getting the hang of dog-paddling and was becoming more adept at it. Now and again, he would still tense up a little and he avoided at all cost to put his head underwater. Despite America's encouragements, he absolutely refused to attempt diving as it meant going completely underwater.

Neither had realized how much time had passed until Northern Ireland came back to the pool for them. He was fully clothed and looked a bit exasperated. America and England looked up from the pool when Northern Ireland coughed loudly to get their attention.

"Hey Northern Ireland, you've been gone for quite a while. What was the hold up?" America questioned brightly, smiling at the Irish avatar.

Northern Ireland sighed as he replied glumly, "Well, I guessed right. My brothers did panic at England's and my absence and they were looking all over the place, so it took me a while until I found them. And then they all started scolding me, especially Scotland and Ireland."

"But didn't you tell them that we had gone with America?" England asked, sounding a bit surprised that Scotland, Ireland and Cornwall had apparently freaked out at their disappearance.

The younger UK nation shrugged and snorted, "Ireland said that it still was no excuse for us to have disappeared without leaving any indication of where we were going to be."

"Hmm, some elder brothers seem to have gotten their panties in a bunch," America joked, grinning widely.

At that Northern Ireland burst out in laughter before catching himself and calming himself down. But the mirth still remained in his expression and he seemed to be in a bit more a happier mood. Northern Ireland then said, "Anyway, Scotland and Ireland want to go home now so you guys should probably get out of the water and get changed."

"Aww, really?" America questioned, sounding a bit sad. He didn't want to go, it would mean that England was leaving and going back with his brothers.

"Come on, you've been here for quite a while now. You'll need to get out of the pool at some point." Northern Ireland pointed out with a crooked smile, turning to leave to let America and England go to the changing rooms.

America looked at England and the island nation smiled a bit, saying, "We probably should go, we don't want Ireland and Scotland coming here instead and scolding us for taking too long."

"Yeah…" America answered reluctantly, bending down and picking England out of the water and setting him on the ledge of the pool. Both went to get themselves changed back and about ten minutes later, they were clothed and their hair was semi-dried.

As they were making their way out of the changing room, they briefly caught glimpse of Northern Ireland who had been standing at the doors leading back to the hotel lobby, probably waiting for them. America and England had almost reached Northern Ireland before England stopped and turned to look at America earnestly. He thanked, "Thanks America, for trying to teach me how to swim. I don't think I managed too well but at least you tried to help me-"

"Don't worry about it England, at least you can keep your head above the water now… I guess you can also do some kind of dog-paddling although it looks a bit demented at time," America added the last bit teasingly, nudging England.

England pouted slightly at the playful poke in his ability of dog-paddling and he mumbled, "It's going to take me more than one time to learn how to swim well."

"Reason why we should do this again. Wouldn't that be fun?" America asked eagerly. He continued, "I'll keep your swimming trunks so that next time we might, I'll drag you to the closest swimming, how about it?" Both nations resumed walking down the hall towards Northern Ireland.

"Yeah, but don't think I'll always want to go swimming. I'm not that crazy about it either…" England answered, trailing off as he sunk into thought. He halted again and looked up at America, beckoning to him wordlessly. America seemed surprised by the silent request but still leaned his head closer to England, assuming that the smaller nation wanted to whisper something to him.

All of a sudden, England stood on his toes and kissed America on the right cheek. Before America could react, England made a dash for Northern Ireland and didn't slow down until he was next to the Irish avatar. Then he walked past Northern Ireland and went through to the doors that would lead him to the hotel lobby where the other brothers were waiting for him and Northern Ireland. The younger UK nation cast a surprised look at America before turning to follow after England into the lobby.

America stared after England in shock and astonishment. He had never expected something like this from England! His cheeks flushed bright red and the place where America had been kissed felt all tingly and warm.

"Now that was absolutely adorable." A voice beside America commented warmly.

The American almost jumped out of his skin as he whipped his head around to see who was next to him. He met the familiar eyes of Canada, who was looking at him with a rather large smile.

"W-where did you come from?" America blurted out, still rather surprised and a bit embarrassed by the fact that he must be really red in the face, judging by how he felt the heat radiating from his face.

"I was looking for you all over the hotel and then I heard from Scotland that I would find you here. Luckily I came just in time to see this charming little scene." Canada replied, chuckling as America seemed to get redder in the face. The Canadian asked innocently, "So, how was it?"

"Tha-tha-that's really none of your business Ca-Cadana!" America stuttered in embarrassment, staring down at the ground to avoid Canada's amused eyes.

"That flustered, eh?" Canada chuckled, wrapping his arms around America's shoulder. America could only curse his blush silently. What had England meant with that kiss? It was a rather innocent kiss, it could be easily seen as a goodbye or thank you kiss. But England wasn't that type of country where affection was shown.

Did England's kiss somehow mean that the Brit was beginning to remember his feelings for America? The American couldn't stop a goofy grin from creeping onto his face as the meaning of the kiss sunk in.

His heart leapt a bit at this glimmer of hope. America really wished with all his heart that England would remember soon.

* * *

When they left India's house, night was starting to fall but as England and his brothers travelled westwards to go back home, they always landed in a place where the day wasn't completely over yet. It was as if they were fleeing the night. It was a rather interesting concept to see.

Though England's nation-hopping skills had improved, Ireland decided that it would still be better if England used photos to travel from India back to the British Isles. The Irish nation told Scotland, Cornwall and Northern Ireland that they could go on without them but they insisted that they all travelled together through the landscape. England thought it was really nice of them to make this decision, seeing as they could normally be back home at a faster pace if they weren't travelling at England's speed.

To make up for the fact that it would take them a longer time to get home, England requested that Ireland gave him every second picture instead of every picture. He was thus going to nation-hop greater distances but Ireland eventually agreed that it would be good practice for England to do this.

They were nearing eastern Europe when it occurred to England that he had no idea where he was going to stay. Was he going back to his house where Wales would be? Or would he be somewhere else? When England voiced those questions, Scotland answered brightly, "You and Northern Ireland are going to stay at my house for a little while."

While England wasn't too surprised by the answer and accepted that decision, Northern Ireland stopped abruptly and immediately protested, "Wait, why do I have to stay at your place? I have my own place in my country, I don't need you to babysit me."

The other avatars stopped walking and turned to look at Northern Ireland who was refusing to budge from his spot. Scotland smiled widely as he stepped closer to the young Irish avatar and attempted to say convincingly, "Come now North, it's going to be fun. I'm not going to babysit you at all. You'll just stay a few days with me and England."

"But I'm not hurt anymore! I can take care of myself just fine, I'm not a baby," Northern Ireland argued, sounding very peeved off.

"It's for security reasons that we feel you'd be better off staying with Scotland for a few days." Cornwall explained prudently, looking careful not to set the annoyed teen off. England was looking at Northern Ireland in confusion, why did it mean so much to Northern Ireland to be able to go back to his own house? He was going to be on his own there, while he had the option of staying with Scotland and England. His brothers moved to form a semi-circle as they faced Northern Ireland, the younger nation looking quite angry and crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

"What security reasons?" Northern Ireland demanded, sounding very suspicious. "I'm not hurt, I'm not sick, I don't have any problems… what am I not safe of? What are you guys implying?"

Ireland answered sternly, "Nothing, we just feel that it would be better if you stayed with Alba for just a few days. We're not asking you to sell your soul for Christ's sake!"

"But I don't want to go!" Northern Ireland gritted his teeth, looking lividly at Ireland.

The elder nation frowned and he commanded firmly, "North, as your elder brother, I order you to do as you're told."

Northern Ireland snorted, "And what if I refuse? What then? Will you put me in chains? Lock me in a room? What will you do?"

Ireland stared at the defiant younger Irish avatar quietly, looking quite exasperated by the other. He shook his head and he replied, "I'll take your keys and lock you out of your house."

A brief stunned silence followed as Northern Ireland looked at Ireland incredulously. He then laughed and scoffed, "Nice try Ireland, but you have to be quicker about this type of thing…," He trailed off when he saw Ireland smirk as he pulled out a key from his pocket. Northern Ireland quickly checked his own pocket and confirming that Ireland was holding his key, Northern Ireland scowled and he sniffed, "Doesn't matter, I still have a spare key hidden somewhere around my- GODDAMMIT!" Northern Ireland yelled the last part as Ireland pulled a second key out of his pocket, grinning triumphantly at Northern Ireland.

"Sorry North, but you really need to hide your keys better next time," Scotland chuckled lightly, seeming a bit apologetic. Northern Ireland whipped his head in Scotland's direction, his eyes narrowing.

"How did you… when… oh who cares!" Northern Ireland spat, "Fine, I'll do as I'm told… but I'll get back at you somehow." He directed the last part at Ireland, glowering at him furiously.

Ireland sneered, "I'd love to see you try." He then shoved the two keys back into his pocket and he took out some photos to choose the next location England was to nation-hop to. Scotland went up to Ireland to check the photos out. Northern Ireland huffed angrily and England, curious about North's anger, went up to him.

"Why don't you want to come with Scotland and me?" England asked cautiously, wondering if he should let Northern Ireland cool off first. The younger UK nation looked really riled up. Northern Ireland looked down at England, his blue eyes still flashing angrily.

But he eventually sighed and rolled his eyes, answering, "Trust me England, there will come a time where you'll want to seek out your own space without having the feeling that you're being forced to stay somewhere. It's difficult enough to get it through their thick heads that I'm not a baby, and still they give me no option than to obey what they say." Northern Ireland paused for a moment, as if a strange thought had suddenly struck him. He then looked at England in a bit of confusion and he asked, "Hey England, wasn't there something we were supposed to mention to the others?"

"Really? What exactly?" England asked, feeling just as confused as Northern Ireland did. There was something that they had to mention? But what? England racked his brain but couldn't find anything that he wanted an answer.

Northern Ireland closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to find the answer. He replied, "I really can't remember, but it was something we saw at the pool and America seemed worried about it. We said that we'd discuss it later on. But what was it?"

England shrugged his shoulders as he said, "I have no idea what you're talking about, what did we see at the pool?" This was pretty strange, what was Northern Ireland referring to. What had they seen that made America worried? Was it something bad? No matter how hard England thought, he couldn't remember it.

The young Irish avatar looked very much at loss. He said slowly, "This is really strange… I can't remember it at all. All I know is that we forgot something. What exactly, I can't tell. I just know that we've forgotten something important."

"It couldn't have been that important if it slipped our minds." England pointed out uneasily, he still didn't know what Northern Ireland was talking about. It certainly was strange, England had absolutely no memory of it and yet Northern Ireland was convinced that there was something.

"What are you two talking about?" Cornwall asked curiously as he approached the younger avatars. He must have been listening to their conversation. Both England and Northern Ireland looked at Cornwall and they shrugged helplessly.

"North thinks there's something that we must tell but neither of us can remember it," England explained, feeling a bit silly. He was convinced that there was nothing to tell. But Northern Ireland seemed to insist that there was something to tell.

Cornwall smiled sympathetically at that and he admitted, "The same thing happens to me all the time. There are so many things that happen and you want to talk about and then it just slips your mind. It's frustrating when you can't remember what you wanted to say."

"It certainly is…," Northern Ireland agreed, still looking perturbed by it.

England was about to assure Northern Ireland that there was nothing to worry about when he heard Scotland suddenly yell, "WILL YOU STOP THAT?" England, Northern Ireland and Cornwall turned to look at Scotland and Ireland who were facing each other, as if they were preparing to fight each other.

"Stop what?" Ireland demanded coldly, staring at the Scot with hard eyes. "You want me to stop breathing? To stop looking? To stop my cells from producing energy? WHAT?"

"Stop treating me like a criminal!" Scotland shouted, looking extremely upset.

"I wasn't." Ireland answered shortly, turning to face away from Scotland.

The action seemed to upset Scotland more and he grabbed Ireland by the shoulders, forcing him to turn back to face him. He growled, "Well you're certainly not treating me like a brother. You barely talk to me, you avoid looking at me and you keep giving me the cold shoulder. For God's sake, how long are you going to keep a grudge against me?"

"I don't need to tell anyone how I deal with my grudges. I can keep them as long as they damn please me," Ireland spat venomously, glaring fiercely at Scotland.

"That's childish!" Scotland protested loudly, throwing his arms in the air.

"Yes, tell me how mature your grudge against America was at the World Meeting!" Ireland laughed bitterly, taking a long step backwards from his Scottish brother. Scotland frowned and took a step closer to Ireland, determined not to let the elder brother slip away.

Scotland countered exasperatedly, "That barely lasted a day! But yours is already on its second day. Are you going to begrudge me for a decade, a century? Five centuries? A MILLENIUM? For something as simple as that?"

"It's not simple at all," Ireland snarled, balling his hands into a fist, crumpling the photos in one of his hands. "That's the problem, you have no idea the severity of what you have done. How can you expect to be forgiven when you treat it as something that is in your eyes not such a big deal?"

"It's something that has happened in the past and no matter how much you wish, nothing can be changed." Scotland explained impatiently, looking at Ireland with a very irritated expression. He pointed out, "Haven't I forgiven you for all the bad things you've done, even when it was something really bad?"

Ireland crossed his arms over his chest tightly as he growled sarcastically, "Why yes, you forgave me so easily for all those past deeds, especially the worst ones. How long was it until I was allowed to be even present in the same room as with Northern Ireland without you preparing to tackle me at the tiniest false movement?"

Just as Scotland was going to retort something back at Ireland, England felt someone taking his hand and tugging on it gently. He snapped his head up to see who it was. Cornwall was looking at him quietly and he put a finger on his lips to show that England should stay quiet. Taking Northern Ireland's wrist in his other hand, Cornwall started leading the two avatars away silently.

Soon the voices of Ireland and Scotland grew faint and were barely discernible. England noticed that the landscape was fading and merging very slowly, meaning that Cornwall was gradually nation-hopping and taking England and Northern Ireland with him. All three avatars were silent for a moment before Northern Ireland broke the silence.

He looked behind him and he questioned, "What about those two cockerels then?"

Cornwall hummed softly under his breath before he replied, "If they have to fight, they'll fight. If they have to talk, they'll talk. Let them deal with their issues and they'll work them out at their own pace. We have no need to be present at their argument."

"What did Ireland mean about being allowed near Northern Ireland without Scotland preparing to attack him?" England inquired, very much confused by that sentence. It seemed to imply that Ireland had hurt Northern Ireland at some point…

The Cornish avatar laughed awkwardly at that and he answered, "Exactly, I was trying to avoid those types of revelations."

"But what happened?" England pressed, looking over to see that Northern Ireland was resolutely staring in front of him, refusing to look at either Cornwall or England. It must be something bad then… Northern Ireland and Cornwall both looked very uncomfortable by the question.

After a moment, the English county finally responded, "It's something bad that happened quite a while ago. I don't really want to give you the details… either I or someone else will tell you at another point."

Feeling a bit annoyed that Cornwall was refusing to give him a direct answer, England opened his mouth to argue but Cornwall swiftly cut him off by saying, "England, I didn't say that no one was going to tell you or that you would have to wait a few years to find out. All I'm saying is that right now's not a good time." At that, England looked over to Northern Ireland and saw that he still was avoiding eye contact with the two other avatars. England accepted that maybe it was an event that hurt Northern Ireland and he didn't want to talk about it or even hear it.

After a few minutes of silence, Northern Ireland pulled his wrist out of Cornwall's hand and stuffed them in his pockets, but he continued nation-hopping alongside the county with a thoughtful expression. A few seconds passed and then Northern Ireland looked at Cornwall, asking with an amused smile, "Did you know that England kissed America before he joined us in the hotel lobby?"

"Did he?" Cornwall questioned, looking a bit surprised. He turned to look at England with curiosity, causing England to blush slightly.

England nodded as he said, "Yes, I kissed him on the cheek but-"

"That is absolutely sweet!" Cornwall declared with a big smile, squeezing England's hand gently. England felt himself getting redder in the face and he didn't really know what else to say. Why was it "sweet"? It was just a small kiss on America's cheek. Why was that interesting to Cornwall and Northern Ireland?

"You should have seen the look on America's face, I should have had a camera ready to immortalize it. It was really worth seeing it, America's expression was hilarious," Northern Ireland laughed loudly, taking his hands out of his pockets.

"I didn't see his reaction…," England mumbled, feeling a bit regretful that he had looked back to see what face America had made. At the moment, England had been very flustered by his own actions and he hadn't had the courage to look behind him. A part of thing had been actually afraid that America would react negatively to him.

Why exactly though, had England been made so nervous by this move. It was just a simple kiss on the cheek. He couldn't really explain what came over him, he had just spontaneously gotten the idea and he had done it without giving it much thought. In a way England was happy, he felt slightly exhilarated that he had kissed the American.

"Maybe you should kiss him next time you meet him and wait to see his reaction?" Cornwall proposed, chuckling at the idea. Northern Ireland laughed as well, seeming to like the idea of seeing a flustered America again. England smiled though he still felt that his face was a little red with… embarrassment?

"But anyway, where are we going now?" Northern Ireland asked. They were now reaching the edge of western Europe and they would soon cross the sea to reach the British Isles. Cornwall looked before him, seeming to think something over.

The older avatar answered after a moment, "Well, I'll bring you two to Scotland's house since that was the original plan."

Northern Ireland briefly scowled, not happy to be reminded that he had no choice and had to go to Scotland's house. England couldn't help but feel slightly bemused by North's reaction, he really couldn't understand why it upset Northern Ireland so much. But then the younger UK nation brightened up as he realized, "But you don't have Scotland's keys to his house, do you?"

Cornwall slowed down a bit as he noticed that Northern Ireland had a point there, he apparently hadn't thought about that. Cornwall shook his head slowly in response to Northern Ireland's question.

The Irish avatar questioned eagerly, "So then I can go to my house since we can't enter Scotland's house."

"But didn't Ireland take your keys away?" England asked carefully.

"…Damn him." Northern Ireland grumbled under his breath as he came to the same conclusion as England.

Cornwall seemed to be thinking something over and he quickly found a solution. He amended, "I can bring you and England to my house instead while we wait for Scotland to come back. I think I could even make us some tasty pasties, how about it?

The younger UK nation considered the thought for a few seconds before reluctantly nodding, seeing as he wouldn't be able to go to his own house. Cornwall smiled widely at that and turned to look before him, to see where they were more or less now. England briefly caught a glimpse of a sea some distance before them so they were going to land on Great Britain in a matter of minutes.

As Cornwall and Northern Ireland started talking about an oncoming rainstorm, England sunk into his thoughts for a while. He wondered again what had driven him to kiss America. He couldn't get rid of the idea that he had kissed America for a reason, a reason that seemed obscure and uncomprehending to England for now.

Certainly he had known what it was before his attempted suicide. So logically he would be finding it out soon enough through his memories? England was really curious to understand what these strange feelings in his heart were, and why they only came when he was close to America.

Only time could tell really. England hoped he would be able to see America again soon.

* * *

America had been silent for the majority of the journey back home, listening intently to Canada as he filled him in on what England's brothers had discussed about the dark voice and the probability that it was a person of the mounds.

He did regret not having stayed behind as the discussion definitely sounded interesting. On the other hand, America was glad that he had nevertheless spent time with England. He considered himself pretty lucky that Canada was willing to reiterate what had been said so that America would know what England's elder brothers were up to. There came a time where America and Canada had to stop when they arrived in North America because Canada was going northwards while America would continue eastwards.

"So, in short, Ireland is going to look for a pagan god to get an idea of who are the possible suspects to then identify England's ego and eventually find a way to get rid of it?" America summarised, looking at Canada with a questioning expression.

The Canadian nodded, "Yes, and they're going to give it a week before they take England with them in the hopes of getting that god's attention if he hasn't responded till then."

"Doesn't that sound a bit… dangerous?" America asked hesitantly, uncertain of whether he liked the idea or not. It was good that the dark voice was being looked into and that Ireland and Scotland were going to try and find what England's ego was exactly, but he still felt like he should be worried for England. The thing with England's bruise hadn't stopped nagging him but he was sure that either England or Northern Ireland were going to bring it up to Ireland or Scotland and they'd know what to do.

But all that business with pagan gods and stuff? Yeah… definitely didn't sound like a walk in the park.

Canada reassured, "That's just as a last resort if all else fails. Ireland and Scotland know what they're doing, they're experienced with the people of the mounds. I remember all the stories Scotland used to tell me about them… I know that England won't be in danger if they're around."

America hummed in agreement, remembering briefly the times Ireland would come over to colonial America's house and tell the small boy of the strange Otherworld and its even stranger inhabitants, the people of the mounds. He asked after a moment, "What did the others say about Ireland and Scotland's plan?"

"They all agreed that this was the best course of action… though I don't think anyone of us would have had a better plan to propose. Right now, the main idea is to find out what the dark voice is and find a method of freeing England from its influence," Canada explained, turning to look at the distant homes. Both America and he had landed in a large field and it was still daylight here whereas at India's place, night was falling. Canada paused for a moment before cautiously adding, "Australia did say though that he wanted to help out and come with them if that god doesn't respond within a week."

"And does it look like that Ireland and Scotland will allow him to help?" America asked curiously, very intent on knowing what the answer to Australia's words had been. Canada bit his lower lip, no doubt already guessing that America was interested in helping out too. It was just so typical, if there was something to be done, America and Australia were always ready to jump into action. Compared to them, both Canada and New Zealand were the quieter of their brothers and they were a lot more level headed.

"Obviously Ireland immediately informed Australia that he didn't need to put himself in unnecessary danger. He said that the a big part of the family was going to pitch in and help with identifying the dark voice, whether they were going to be outside talking to various creatures or inside poring over books. Ireland said that Australia's offer of help was appreciated but they couldn't expose him to the dangers of the Otherworld," Canada replied, not liking the look of determination appearing in America's eyes.

"Well, I think I'm going to go and help as well!" America declared confidently. If Australia was going to come and help with finding who the dark voice was, America wanted to help too. Who knows, England's brothers might need the help.

"America, they said that they were fine and knew what they had to do. I don't think you'd know what to do. Besides they said that it could get dangerous," Canada explained, trying to convince the American not to go.

"More the reason to go then!" America exclaimed, crossing his arms over his chest. He grinned widely at Canada, knowing that his brother was going to try to convince him of otherwise but he wasn't going to be so easily persuaded. This was about the bastardly dark voice, there was no way America was going to miss out on hunting its identity down and eventually driving it out of England. England deserved to be freed of this so-called "ego".

"Can't you be more reasonable like New Zealand and I. Why do you and Australia always insist on jumping into the crocodile-infested waters?" Canada sighed tiredly, seeing the futility in arguing with America. He could see that America had already made up his mind and there was no way Canada was going to succeed.

"Um bro, I don't have crocodiles in my country… apart in zoos and stuff. But Australia has plenty of them," America paused for a second, before starting to laugh, "Wait, so Oz does that in his free time?"

"It was a matter of speaking America, I have no idea if Australia does it or not. He probably doesn't. But my main point is, you two just love diving into dangerous waters," Canada huffed, looking at America with disapproving eyes.

America chuckled, "Of course, you think I became a strong country by skipping about and throwing flowers out of a basket? You gotta be prepared to face anyone and anything. And if I can, I will meet that damned ego of England's and I will kick its ass right out of England. I will not miss a chance like that."

"Of course you won't…," Canada sighed again, realizing that he wasn't going to go anywhere. But what could he do? Once America made his mind up, almost nothing could make him change his mind.

Ireland and Scotland will have to deal with America and Australia themselves. No amount of talking and insisting from him and New Zealand were going to convince their brasher brothers.

* * *

Ireland snapped angrily, at the end of his already-thin patience, "Look Alba, I am absolutely sick and tired of discussing this with you. Will you just leave me be?" The elder nation took several quick steps back and turning around to nation-hop away. It took Scotland a few milliseconds to realize that Ireland was actually fleeing from him.

"Ireland, stay here!" Scotland yelled in annoyance as he chased after the Irish nation. Ireland only cast a brief glance behind him at the Scot in irritation and he disappeared into thin air as he nation-hopped away.

Scotland let out an exasperated growl and he nation-hopped after Ireland, suspecting where his elder brother was going. The surrounding melted away around Scotland and he suddenly found himself in a green hilly landscape. He was at the top of a hill and he looked around swiftly, trying to spot Ireland.

Catching a glimpse of ginger hair, Scotland turned around and saw that Ireland had landed just a bit more downhill from the Scot. Ireland was staring at Scotland with wide surprised eyes and he looked like he was preparing to nation-hop away. Scotland frowned and he made a quick dash for Ireland, jumping on top of his brother, causing both of them to tumble down the hill.

After rolling down a few times, Scotland managed to use the land and the motion to his advantage and stayed on top of Ireland, pinning the other to the ground. Ireland growled and tried to push him off but the Scot sat with his full weight on Ireland's stomach and grabbed in one hand Ireland's wrists and with the other hand he pinned Ireland's throat to the ground.

Ireland still kept struggling despite the fact that he couldn't dislodge Scotland. He suddenly spit at the Scot and the other barely dodged it. After a few seconds, Scotland burst out into laughter at the silliness of it. He chuckled, "Really Ireland, resorting to the llama's technique?"

"Gerroff!" Ireland barked as he tried to push Scotland away, but stopped after a few seconds as he saw the futility of it. He huffed in annoyance, "Will you just get off?"

"Not until you accept my apology and let your grudge go!" Scotland declared, his expression becoming more serious.

"I don't have to accept anything!" Ireland snapped back, glaring resentfully at Scotland.

Scotland sighed heavily, pointing out, "Come on Ireland, I even forgave you when you hurt Northern Ireland. That type of forgiveness is not something easy to come by."

"While you did forgive me, after how many decades was I even allowed to be in the same house as him again?" Ireland questioned rhetorically, sounding very sarcastic. He attempted to free his hands from Scotland's grip but found that the Scot hadn't relaxed his hold at all.

"That was still a different situation, you decided to strangle Northern Ireland to eliminate him. I was trying to help England with his depression and his hatred of himself." Scotland explained, staring at Ireland with pleading eyes. He wished that Ireland would be convinced of his good intentions. It wasn't ever meant to be a blow against him, Scotland honestly hadn't expected Ireland to feel so hurt over this.

Ireland shook his head as he muttered, "Both situations are very similar. I hurt Northern Ireland and here you have hurt me. I misused Northern Ireland's trust back then as you have misused mine. We were both betrayed by someone of the family."

"You tried killing Northern Ireland! I was trying to HELP England!" Scotland shouted in exasperation.

"At the cost of my pain?" Ireland demanded, his voice rising a pitch higher. Scotland stopped for a moment, looking at Ireland closely. His older brother was staring back at him defiantly with blazing eyes, but Scotland noticed that Ireland's eyes were upset and very close to tearing up. Ireland was doing his utmost not to allow any hint of a tear to appear in his eyes but Scotland knew his brother well enough.

Scotland inhaled heavily, leaning forward to press his forehead against Ireland's and closing his eyes. As he exhaled slowly, Scotland murmured, "Ireland, Ireland, why does this upset you so much?"

There was a long pause, and Scotland was almost beginning to wonder whether Ireland was going to answer him at all. But then Ireland replied, his voice shaky, "You w-were there…"

"Yes, but why are you upset that I told England? Would it have made a difference if I told someone else? Would it have hurt you just as much if I had told it to, say… Italy? India?" Scotland asked quietly, opening his eyes and raising his head slightly to watch Ireland closely. His brother was looking to the side, refusing to look at Scotland directly. He was blinking back some of the tears that were threatening to fall out of the corner of his eyes.

After a moment of consideration, Ireland gave a small shake of his head. Scotland decided to press further, "So why didn't you want England to know?"

"I don't want to be seen as a monster," Ireland whispered, closing his eyes tightly. "I don't want anyone else from the family knowing. They'll all see me as a monster."

"Ireland, England doesn't think of you as a monster and no one else shall think of you that way. Trust me, England hasn't shown any signs of thinking any less of you since he has seen that memory." Scotland assured his Irish brother gently.

The Irish nation sniffed as he mumbled darkly, "Not yet, but he will."

"Why should he?" Scotland questioned, confused by Ireland's pessimistic answer.

"Sasana hasn't remembered Wessex yet, has he?" Ireland asked bitterly, turning his head to regard Scotland quietly.

Scotland swiftly shook his head as he protested, "Ireland, don't compare yourself to Wessex! You two are nothing alike!"

"We both killed a family member," Ireland pointed out sullenly, sighing heavily. "Sasana has been asking questions about Albion lately and while we don't know how she died, we all know who her killer was. And Sasana seems to care about her whereas he could hardly remember her before. Once memories of Wessex return to him, he might dislike Wessex's actions and then he'll see the link between Wessex and me. Then he'll start seeing me as a monster."

"It doesn't work that way," Scotland disagreed, frowning. "Wessex killed deliberately while you never intended to kill Pictland, you were driven to do it because of your rage. And you regret your action while Wessex never did. I doubt that England will make the connection and see you as a monster."

"How do you know for sure?" Ireland questioned, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He looked to the side as he muttered quietly, "It's a fear I've had for so long… afraid that if England, Wales, Cornwall, Isle of Man, or anyone else from our family were to know that I killed Pictland, they'd all make the connection to Wessex. I don't want to be connected to that bastard half-brother of ours. Wessex never regretted and he never apologised for what he did."

"But you do regret and God knows how many times you've apologised to me for Pictland's death," Scotland countered with a smile, releasing his hold on Ireland's wrists and throat and when Ireland turned his head to face the Scot, he leaned forward to bump foreheads with his elder brother.

Ireland stared at him quietly for a few moments before huffing softly, "This is so wrong, I'm the elder brother here. You shouldn't have to comfort me…"

Scotland laughed at that, "Well you don't have a wide array of options exactly, seeing as you are the oldest of the family. So you'll have to contend with me I suppose."

"Isle of Man is older than you by a few centuries though," Ireland pointed out, a small teasing smile appearing on his face.

"But he's not much of a comforter, aye?" Scotland questioned, raising a thick eyebrow. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at the still-pinned Ireland. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something white flash by. Scotland looked around and saw that it was right in front of his nose, its bright black eyes boring its way into Scotland's mind. Ireland tilted his head upwards to see what it was.

A white deer was standing in front of Scotland, almost nose to nose. The deer looked down at Ireland, an ear flicking. Ireland and Scotland both looked at each other before Scotland raised his arm and stretched his palm towards the deer, saying firmly, "No."

The deer took a few steps back, watching the two nations curiously. It then snorted and pawed the ground with its cloven foot, looking at Scotland and Ireland expectantly. Scotland smiled grimly as he shook his head, "No, we're not going to follow you. Return to the Otherworld."

Uttering a huff of disappointment, the white deer cast a last glance at the nations before prancing off, dissolving into fog some distance away. Both nations stared after it silently for a few minutes before Ireland coughed awkwardly, "Um, could you please get off? You're rather heavy on my stomach."

Scotland chuckled a bit but he stood up and pulled Ireland back to his feet. The Irish nation exhaled loudly, rubbing his stomach. Scotland grinned a bit sheepish but his expression soon grew serious as he looked back in the direction where the white deer had disappeared. He asked curiously, "Why do you think the white deer came to us?"

Shrugging, Ireland replied, "It may have picked up on the negative emotions when we were arguing before and so was drawn to us, hoping that one of us would follow it."

The Scot was silent for a few seconds before he questioned, "Do you think something like that happened to England, hence why he has the dark voice now?"

"I don't so. The white deer lures you back to the Otherworld and you die during the journey without noticing. Last I checked, England is still very much alive. He also wouldn't have been able to come back here if he had followed the deer into the Otherworld, he would have been stuck there." Ireland explained as he shook his head.

Scotland pouted, "I was just proposing an idea, don't shoot it down so hastily."

"By the way, how did you know that I would nation-hop here?" Ireland asked, looking at Scotland quizzically.

The younger brother smiled widely, turning to look around the hilly landscape. He answered brightly, "How could I have not? This is the Hill of Tara, your pseudo-historical former heart of your country. This is one of the places I know you go to when you're feeling upset. You love being here, this place connects with you very strongly. But what would one expect when this is your birthplace?"

"Ah, you know me far too well…," Ireland sighed, smiling crookedly at Scotland. Then he sighed as he turned to regard his surroundings worriedly. "But it is also here that I must begin searching for Lugh. He used to rule here as a High King. I do suspect that I'll end up searching many areas before Lugh will be willing to appear."

"Good luck with that Ireland. I'll come and help you on the second day if you haven't gotten any response by then. Alright?" Scotland looked at Ireland closely, his smile becoming more sympathetic.

Ireland nodded before thanking, "Thank you Alba, your help is greatly appreciated. Can you come closer, I have something to say."

Curious, Scotland took a step closer to Ireland and was surprised when Ireland reached out and pulled him into a tight hug. Ireland said quietly, "I… accept your apology Alba, and I'm… uh, I… am sorry that I acted like this towards you. You didn't deserve it."

Scotland coloured a bit in his cheeks in response to Ireland's apology but he quickly masked it by returning the hug and burying his face into Ireland's shoulder. He mumbled, "Thank ye."

Ireland pulled back with an uncertain smile and he declared, "Well, I shall start my search for our distant cousin then. You better go and pick Sasana and North up, I think Cornwall took then back to his house."

"Probably, I hope North won't sulk too much. My lands are already covered in gloomy weather as it is," Scotland joked lightly.

"Well let's hope North doesn't discover a spell that will plunge your lands into constant downpour." Ireland laughed as he turned to face the mysterious hill of Tara, silently wondering how he was going to find Lugh.

* * *

Deciding that he had given the other brothers enough time to come back home and get settled, Wales took a short break from his work and dialled the number to Scotland's house. The phone rang for a few seconds before someone picked up the call. But, against Wales' expectation, the person said nothing at all.

Frowning in a bit of confusion, Wales greeted carefully, "Hello? Who's at the phone?"

There was a stretch of uncomfortable silence before Wales finally heard who was on the other side. England mumbled uncertainly, "Hello Wales?"

"Hello England, how are you?" Wales exclaimed, happy to hear England's voice.

"…This is a bit strange," England admitted after a pause, sounding a bit confused.

"What is?" Wales questioned, wondering what England was talking about.

"Well, I can hear you talk but I can't see you… I just find it a little odd, I'm used to seeing someone when I'm talking to them," England explained uncertainly.

"Oh, so this is your first time talking on the phone with someone since you can remember, right?" Wales asked, finally understanding why England was so uncertain. Wales himself and the nations had had a similar reaction a long time ago when phones were invented and eventually all nations were introduced to those strange devices that allowed you to speak with someone miles away. It was actually interesting to hear England's tone of confusion and awe. He had probably observed various nations using a phone but this must be the first time he's using it himself.

"Yes, Scotland told me to pick the phone up and click on that green button so that I could see who was on the other side. Well more hear than see, but I still find it impressive that humans came up with something like that." England answered, his uncertainty seeming to wash away as he became used to the concept of talking to Wales without being able to see him.

Wales heard Scotland distantly call, "There are things that are a lot more remarkable than a phone, the phone is mostly an everyday item now."

"Where is Scotland actually?" Wales inquired slowly, having not been able to pinpoint how far away Scotland was.

"He's sitting on the couch watching… umm, what do you call that strange box thing? With moving pictures? A tlee… err, a teele… ah, a television!" England finally exclaimed, happy that he had managed to rediscover the word for another strange object that England kept seeing but didn't really understand.

"Can you tell him that's he's a lazy oaf for letting you get the phone while he's lounging in front of the TV?" Wales asked with a teasing smile, chuckling lightly as he heard England repeat his message to the lazy Scot.

Predictably, he heard Scotland protest, "Oi, I'm far from lazy! I'm watching over England and I have to deal with a sulking Northern Ireland who has holed himself up in his old room."

An even more distant answer sounded, probably coming Northern Ireland who yelled from his room, "You wouldn't have to if you'd only let me go home!"

"Anyway, how was the World Meeting England?" Wales questioned, wanting to know how England was. He had heard snippets of what had happened, it had been certainly a very eventful week for England. And not perhaps a very good week, it must have been hard for England to deal with so much in a short amount of time. Perhaps the amount of nations had triggered all these things to surface.

"Uh… it was alright I suppose… there were a few setbacks but I liked meeting the other nations and getting to know some of them again. Some of the nations were really nice to me, like Portugal and others," England answered, sounding a bit unsure about what Wales wanted to hear.

"Portugal is a very good friend of yours, I'm happy that you managed to meet him again. Otherwise, you're not feeling bad, tired or sick? Are you feeling alright right now?" Wales inquired hopefully, England had been through a lot recently.

England replied, "I'm fine now, though I don't think I would have been doing so well if it weren't for America. He was there a lot every time I was sick or feeling bad and he always tried his best to comfort me. I really like him, he's always trying and he never seems to give up."

Wales paused for a moment, frowning a bit as he said, "…Is that so?"

"Yes, America is really nice and supportive to me," England answered, going on to describe to Wales all the things America had done and how much fun England had had around the American. He sounded really happy as he told Wales all this, completely unaware of the heavy silence on the other side of the phone. Wales' frowned darkened, his eyes disapproving the more he heard about America.

When it sound like England was running out of things to say, Wales jumped in and he carefully asked, "Were you with America all the time?"

"Not all the time, though we were a lot together," England replied, adding nervously, "Why, is that bad?"

"Oh no, no, no, I just wanted to point out that America is not the only nation in the world. He is very nice and enjoyable to be with and I'm sure you have a lot of fun with him, but you shouldn't forget that there are other friendly nations who also offer interesting company," Wales quickly reassured, making sure to keep a disapproving tone from appearing in his voice every time he strayed near the name America.

"Of course I know that Wales!" England laughed lightly as he continued, "It's just coincidences that America was very often around and was happy to talk with me. I do look forward to seeing him again though."

Not convinced at all, Wales still hummed a little to show that he had heard England. He then said, "Alright, it still is good to hear from you and to know that you're doing well. I'll be looking forward to seeing you soon. Can you tell Scotland that I'll call him later?"

"Why won't you talk to him now?" England asked, sounding a bit surprised.

"Don't worry, I just have a few more things to complete here and then when I'm done, I'll call him. It would be nice if you could relay that to Scotland," Wales answered, smiling a bit.

"Okay, I'll do that." England declared brightly, biding Wales good night before hanging up. Wales laughed when he heard England mutter under his breath, asking himself what button was he meant to push before the connection was cut.

But as Wales placed his phone back in its place, he briefly paused to think over what England had said. He had spoken very highly of America and had a lot to say about him. That meant America had been very often with England during the World Meeting.

The Welsh nation frowned at that. This was not good, not in his eyes at least. For now England regarded America as a close friend but one never knew when the perception was changing until it was too late. Wales had nothing against America and England being friends.

He did, however, have a problem if the relationship went further than a close friendship. Wales would have to monitor the situation more closely. He had to make sure that the relationship didn't develop further. The Celtic nation was glad that England was back home, it would make the job easier to keep track of England.

He knew no one shared his views, his opinions on this. He knew that people would be angry with him if he voiced his thoughts. But Wales could not ignore the fact that he absolutely did not want England to become closer to the America.

Wales couldn't let England rediscover his lost feelings for America.

* * *

About two hours past midnight, when everyone else had gone to bed, Northern Ireland opened his eyes wide. Moving very carefully, Northern Ireland slid out of his bed and landed on the ground lightly. He stopped for a few seconds, straining his ears to hear if anyone had heard him. The young Irish avatar looked to the side where there was another bed, in which England was fast asleep.

England made no movement at all, he simply continued to breathe deeply. So far so good then. Now the most difficult part, sneaking past Scotland. Northern Ireland exhaled quietly as he started creeping out of his room. Scotland really shouldn't have put Northern Ireland in his old room, he knew it inside out and knew where the planks creaked.

Maybe the Scot simply assumed that Northern Ireland had nowhere to go, so logically Northern Ireland wasn't going to sneak out of the house. And yet, Northern Ireland was doing just that. Why?

Northern Ireland needed answers. Answers that he doubted either Scotland or anyone else from the family would be able to answer certainly. They could guess, but Northern Ireland needed something stronger than a guess. He had, despite having had the appearance of disinterest before, been listening intently to Scotland as he explained to England what Ireland was planning to do and what would be happening in the next few days.

That was when it had occurred to Northern Ireland that he needed to know if the dark voice had left any permanent damage behind. He couldn't really place his finger on it, but he suspected that tiny fragment may have remained behind and that frightened Northern Ireland.

But no one could give him a direct answer to his problem. He needed to talk with someone from the Otherworld. Thus Northern Ireland decided to sneak to his lands and go searching for an inhabitant of the Otherworld. He wasn't too sure how things worked but if Ireland could pull it off, surely it couldn't be so difficult for Northern Ireland to do the same.

Northern Ireland was tiptoeing his way out of his old room and was making his way down the hall, towards the stairs. He passed by Scotland's room and he briefly froze to listen to the Scot's breathing. After so many years of living with Scotland, Northern Ireland was perfectly in tune with Scotland's sleeping pattern. He knew from Scotland's breathing whether he was pretending to be asleep, half asleep or in a deep sleep.

Cocking his head to one side, Northern Ireland listened closely to Scotland's breathing. Nice and steady, and very heavy. Scotland was completely asleep. Northern Ireland would be able to sneak out of the house without much issue.

He crept his way down the stairs, avoiding the steps that creaked. Northern Ireland almost tripped over one of them but was able to stop himself in time. Steadying himself, Northern Ireland sneaked all the way down and then he slinked into the kitchen.

The backdoor leading to the garden was a relatively old door that wasn't easily opened, so Northern Ireland struggled to open it without causing too much noise. He froze a few times when he thought he heard Scotland start to wake up in response to his attempts of opening the door.

Eventually though, the door finally was budged open without making too much noise. Northern Ireland sneaked past the door into the garden, leaving the door purposefully barely open so that Northern Ireland could creep his way back into the house when he got his answers.

Hopping down the stone steps of the garden and walking through the crispy grass, Northern Ireland tried his best not to shiver at the biting cold air as he tried to think where he should go to find people of the Otherworld. He had absolutely no idea where the best place was to find them. Northern Ireland thought hard, trying to think of a good place.

His mind zeroed in on the Giant's Causeway. It was actually an area resulting of an ancient volcano eruption, but there was a strong tradition to its supposed mythical links. It had a very strong connection to Fionn mac Cumhaill, who was a prominent character of the Irish mythology, as well as occurring in Scottish and Manx mythology. That had to count for something.

Northern Ireland brought up the memory of the Giant's Causeway in his mind, starting to walk and nation-hop towards it. After a few seconds, Northern Ireland found himself blinking in surprise as he stood in front of the Giant's Causeway, hearing the crashing of the waves in the background.

The small Irish avatar looked about, wondering what was next. What was he supposed to do? Meditate? Find an opening that would lead him to the Otherworld? Try to contact an Otherworld person telepathically? What was Northern Ireland supposed to do now?

He walked around in circles, feeling very confused over what he was supposed to do. Northern Ireland felt upset that he was at loss of ideas. Come on, it couldn't be that difficult? Could it? He shivered as the cold wind of the sea nipped at the back of his neck. Naturally winter was coming, the weather was horribly cold. Northern Ireland should have taken warmer clothes with him, the light sweater just wasn't doing its job anymore.

Suddenly he felt something odd occurring around him. The sea fell all of a sudden quiet, as if it had been silenced by someone. Northern Ireland walked down till he reached the sea that was lapping at the rocks of the Giant's Causeway. No, the waves were still going on, hitting the rocks relentlessly. But the sound was no longer reaching North's ears.

To add to the strangeness, the cold air was gone. Northern Ireland felt that the air was getting warmer. What was happening?

England's voice called out, "Northern Ireland, catch this!"

Northern Ireland whirled around quickly, his eyes wide. What was England doing here? He briefly saw something being thrown at him before he felt the ground beneath him shake and suddenly log-like objects wrapped around him and trapped him against a warm wall.

The avatar was frozen with fear as he felt the ground disappear under him and he heard a deep booming voice question, "**Now lad, what is it that you seek**?"

* * *

**A/N**

Well, hope you liked the latest chapter. Wasn't always very easy to write, got quite a severe writer's block and was stuck endlessly on one of the scenes. Also, while I feel like I've dropped a few cliffhangers here, this chapter feels like more of an in-between chapter than anything else. Things should start picking up next chapter. Alright on to a few notes.

Firstly, I hope I pulled off the swimming pool scene well enough, it is very difficult for me to imagine someone being scared of water seeing as I was able to swim at 3 weeks old. For me it comes naturally. I've had to use my memories of my sister, my mother and my father to construct what I think is realistic for those who can't or have difficulty swimming. My sister swims fine now, but I remember when she really struggled and once she almost drowned herself and my mother by cllinging on to my mother and making my mother lose the little control she had while swimming. My father can absolutely not swim and panics when he can't feel solid ground beneath his feet.

People may question the deal with the disappearing bruise, I do believe though that it will be explained in the next chapter what's going on. Kudos if you can already start guessing what is wrong. One hint, England and Northern Ireland are being genuine later on, they really can't remember at alll. Ah well, enjoy the small USxUK moment I'm giving you as I know some people really want to read more USxUK moments. I am such a tease sometimes, eh?

Oh yeah, a headcanon I have about Scotland and Ireland. Ireland taught Scotland fighting, showed him everything he could do. Ironically, Scotland got better at fighting and can now easily out-best Ireland. That's something Ireland is not too happy about, but it is the case with the student outdoing the teacher. I don't know, Scotland simplly strikes me as a good fighter. I had to resolve the conflict between him and Ireland as it just pained me and pained them to be at odds with each other. They're so often together on one side that the concept of being on different sides is painful to them.

The Hill of Tara is often known as the ancient capital of Ireland, supposedly. If you go to the place, there are no ruins or foundations left. Yet in many legends, Tara is often referred to and is often the place where the High King of Ireland was crowned. Most scholars think it wasn't a permanent residence it was simply temporary while the king was being crowned but then was usually abandoned. If it was built out of wood, it could have easily rotten away. A few scholars have even suggested that the concept of Tara being the former capital of Ireland is invented and has no real basis in history. Nevertheless, I see the Hill of Tara as the pseudo-historical former "capital" of Ireland. I also think that's the place where Ireland was born a long time ago. It is actually significant that Scotland knows about Ireland's birthplace, it's like confiding your most intimate secret to someone. It is a big deal because with Scotland knowing where Ireland will return to when he's dying, Scotland could go to the place and drag Ireland back, not allowing him to die and complete the cycle. Wales did something similar to Cornwall except he managed to find a way to keep Cornwall alive as well. It's like most of us with loved ones: if they're dying, we do anything to keep them alive, even when they're begging to leave. There are exceptions of course, but I think deep down a good number of us are a bit selfish and we usually won't let go of the one we love because it hurts too much.

"Brief"explanation on the two mythical creatures mentioned here: The white deer appears quite often in Scottish folklore and if you follow it, it will eventually lead you to the Otherworld and when you're crossing from one world to the other, your body dies without you knowing and so you find yourself stuck in the Otherworld. So Scotland has the sense of firmly telling the deer that they won't follow it. The other is an Irish hero named Fionn Mac Cumhaill, connected to the Giant's Causeway, the place where according to legend, Fionn was building a bridge to connect with Scotland so that he could fight his Scottish counterpart, the giant Benandonner. There are different versions of the story but ultimately in all of them, Fionn dresses up as a baby and pretends to be Fionn's baby. When Benandonner finds Fionn, he is so frightened by the fact that the baby is so large already that he came to the conclusion that Fionn was bigger than him. And so Benandonner fled and smashed the bridge into pieces, only leaving remnants in Northern Ireland and in Scotland. Actually the Giant's Causeway was the result of an ancient volcanic eruption, but it still is interesting what the Celts made of this strange geographic location.

One more thing to explain: The avatars, such as nations, states, counties and all others are more related to mythical creatures rather than the humans. Mythical creatures are the gibbons of the family tree whille the avatars such as nations are the humans of the family tree. That's how related they are, still quite distant. Why? While nations are the result of our self-identity, mythical creatures and also magical creaturs are the result of our imagination. Mythical creatures are different as they're older and used to be believed to be real. Magical creatures were always known to be imagined, but it never stopped us to let them live in our imagination. Just as nations fall victim to identity changes, mythical creatures suffer from being forgotten and losing stories where they appeared in, thus dying once they are no longer part of our imagination. Magical creatures are different as they're in recent books and movies and are in a way more independant as they can continue to survive in media while mythical creatures need to live in our imagination. It is a bit abstract, I understand, but I like the idea that nations and mythical creatures as distantly related. If any of you want, I'd be happy to elaborate on that strange headcanon. One example would be the faeries: the mythical faery was half as big as an elf, lacked wings and flew with magic. They depend on our imagination to continue surviving. The magical faery, on the other hand, is absolutely tiny and has wings to fly. They don't depend on us because they can survive in media such as recent books and movies.

Well, hope you enjoyed the chapter! See you next time! I'll answer reviews later, right now I have a killed headache that managed to convince me in my sleep that I was a Waterbender turning into an Earthbender. When you get those halllucinations, it's very clear that I'm not getitng enough sleep. See ya around!


	46. Chapter 45

Rah, this chapter wasn't easy to write, mainly because of the sheer size. It actually went up to 73 pages but I've managed to bring it down to 56 pages. By deleting scenes that I thought were not really contributing. I couldn't break the chapter in half, I felt that it broke the flow. Sorry, your eyes might suffer. Mine are also suffering, I'm very tired.

Sorry for not updating sooner, there were a lot of things that happened and I was often kept away from the computer. That includes my father cornering me and calling me several times a traitor because I didn't force my mother to stay with him. That happened over a week ago so I'm over it. And both my mother and my sister have been doing everything to keep me busy and then making me go to bed earlier. Both things add up to me having very little time to write. I hope you guys are not too annoyed by that.

I would write more but my mind is right now a bit too muddled by sleep. I'll answer the reviews from last chapter when I can. I apologise for any mistakes in the chapter. I'll correct it if I find anything. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

Chapter 45

_England had that strange tingling sense, as if he was somewhere outside of his body. He frowned slightly and he squirmed uncomfortably, finding that he was completely immobilized. He tried looking around but wasn't able to see anything beyond darkness. _

_Slowly but surely, an image started swimming into his view. It looked almost as if England was beneath water and he could see that there was something on the other side. It gradually started morphing until England could make out the night sky and a pair of wise blue eyes staring back at him. _

_But they weren't eyes that England recognized. He noticed quiet mumbling, as if the sound was muffled by water. However that too began to become clearer and England was soon able to understand what was being said._

"_Ah yes, I see it very clearly now." The stranger with the blue eyes commented gently. England saw that the stranger had white hair and had the face of an aging man, the wrinkles etched deeply into the skin. Though he seemed to have a permanent stern expression, the warmth in his eyes was what drew England's attention. England found himself being completely calm in his presence, despite the fact that he still felt disconnected from his body and felt immobilized. Something about this old man also felt very… different. _

_The stranger was definitely not a human._

_England felt his lips move of their own accord, asking fearfully, "Can you do something about it please? Can you remove it Fionn Mac Cumhaill?" _

_The stranger, apparently named Fionn, narrowed his eyes in concentration. England now felt that his surroundings were becoming clearer, the strange numb feeling wearing off. He felt unusually cold, as if he was outside. He also felt that his legs were dangling and he was in the air. Though no matter how much England tried to look around, his head refused to obey and he continued facing the stranger._

"_I believe I can, it is a very small fragment and it hasn't had time to integrate with your mind yet. I shall try to remove it if it is your wish Northern Ireland," Fionn finally answered, looking at England thoughtfully. _

_England frowned at that. Northern Ireland? But he wasn't Northern Ireland! Was Fionn confusing them? Or… was that why England was feeling disconnected from his body? He's not in his own body here… is he somehow in Northern Ireland's mind? But when did that happen? No, the better question was: how did this happen? _

"_Please do it Fionn," Northern Ireland requested cautiously, making England realize that he really was staring through his younger brother's eyes. Though now England wondered what they were talking about. Remove what? What was Fionn seeing?_

_Fionn lifted one of his hand, a gigantic hand. Now England understood why he felt so odd looking at the old man: He was a giant! England couldn't understand why that thought hadn't occurred to him before. Fionn's eyes were large, his head was large, everything about him was large. The reason why England felt that his legs were dangling in the air was because the giant was holding him in his other hand. _

_As England thought that over, he became aware that one of Fionn's finger was approaching him and was pressed against his forehead. England looked at the finger briefly before looking back at the old man, feeling suddenly a bit apprehensive. _

"_As you wish young avatarling," Fionn responded and suddenly England was plunged back into darkness. Barely a second passed before England felt a part of him being torn away, pain smashing into England's being immediately after. England started screaming._

* * *

England woke up abruptly, still screaming. He writhed at the pain inside him, inside his mind. It felt as if a piece of his mind had been ripped out and crushed. As the seconds passed, the pain just seemed to multiply, becoming stronger and more unbearable. Tears started pouring down his cheeks and England curled into a ball on his side, burying his face into his blanket to muffle his pained screams.

The pain crashed viciously through his mind, like a twisted animal snarling and clawing at the walls of his head. England screeched loudly, shaking his head wildly. How could he escape the pain?!

Suddenly the light was turned on and he felt hands on his shoulder. He was pulled onto his back, his watering eyes looking up to see a very worried Scotland. England tried to stop but the screams kept pushing their way out. The pain just wouldn't stop. The Brit pressed the blanket more tightly to his mouth, seeking any kind of comfort that would distract him from his pain.

"England, what's wrong?! Where does it hurt?" Scotland asked frantically, his eyes wide. England shook his head and to stop the screams, he clamped his mouth shut and bit his lower lip fiercely. With England's attempts to suppress his screams, his body began to tremble violently.

He twisted and turned, trying his best not to lash out and accidently hit or kick Scotland. It took several excruciating seconds before the pain started waning, ebbing back into the dark recesses of his mind. England felt his body go limp like a ragdoll, still breathing rather rapidly.

England felt Scotland wipe something away from his lower lip, only now noticing that he had drawn blood from when he had bitten his lip. He then felt the Scot place his hand on his forehead. Scotland's hand felt unnaturally warm to England, though maybe it was him that was too cold.

Scotland seemed to be feeling England's forehead for fever, but judging by the frown, he seemed to be quite confused and deeply troubled. He questioned shakily, "England, please talk to me. What happened? What's hurting you? England…?"

But England remained silent, his thoughts being too much in turmoil to form a coherent phrase. He still felt the pain radiating from within his mind. Why did it hurt so much? What had caused the pain?

"England?" Scotland's voice was becoming anxious. England felt Scotland wrapping his arms around him and pulling him onto his lap, wrapping the blanket around the smaller nation. England's breathing calmed down gradually but the smaller nation felt too drained to say anything.

Very gently, England felt himself being pulled into a hug by Scotland. They were silent for a few minutes, making England wonder wordlessly what was going through Scotland's mind. England had tried his best to push the pain away, to stop causing his family and friends to be so anxious over his state. But no matter how hard he tried, the pain kept seeping out between the cracks.

Why couldn't he stop worrying the nations he cared about?

When Scotland pulled back, England looked up slowly to see if he could read what the Scot was thinking. Though Scotland was stone-faced, England was able to see within his eyes that many things were going on. They almost seemed to be burning with anger, though England could also recognize the despair and helplessness within them.

"That bastard has to get out of your mind, I can't tolerate its existence anymore," Scotland growled lowly, tightening his grip around England protectively. His green eyes were blazing dangerously, making England glad that he was on the same side with the Scot.

* * *

A few hours later, after England and Scotland decided that it was not worth trying to sleep anymore (as neither had yet recovered from England's fit), both dragged themselves downstairs to the kitchen. Both nations were exceedingly tired and neither were able to hold much of a conversation. Scotland yawned widely as he poured some cereals and milk into a bowl, handing it over to England. He himself settled for coffee to wake up more.

As both nations sat quietly at the table, each mulling their thoughts over, they heard the back door creak slowly open. Scotland and England turned their heads to see who was sneaking in through the backdoor, though they both already knew who it was.

Northern Ireland pushed his way past the old backdoor but froze in his tracks when he spotted Scotland and England just a few steps away from him. The younger UK nation must have hoped that the others were still asleep, judging by his astonished face. England looked back at Scotland and saw a brief flash of annoyance pass through Scotland's eyes.

Scotland did not look like he was in a good mood.

"Where were you Northern Ireland?" Scotland questioned calmly, somehow managing to sound like the calm before a storm.

"Out," Northern Ireland answered shortly, his face showing that he clearly knew that he was in trouble.

"Out where?" Scotland demanded, standing up from the table to face the younger nation. England dropped his gaze to his bowl, not knowing what to say. He felt bad that Northern Ireland was in trouble but he didn't know what he could do. It was perhaps better that way, Scotland was in a pretty foul mood right now.

"Just out, I went for a walk…," Northern Ireland mumbled, looking down at his feet to avoid looking at Scotland's eyes.

"In the middle of the feckin night?!" Scotland exclaimed angrily, causing Northern Ireland to cringe instinctively.

"Well someone didn't get their sleep last night," Northern Ireland replied dryly, trying to sound expressionless but his voice came out feeble.

"And you didn't either!" Scotland accused, walking over to Northern Ireland and grabbing his lower jaw, forcing the younger nation to look directly at him. Seeing the faint dark rings forming under Northern Ireland's eyes, Scotland repeated his question, "Where were you last night?"

Northern Ireland shook his head fiercely, freeing himself from Scotland's hand. He glared at the Scot furiously and he shouted, "I was just out! I had nowhere to go anyway, so it doesn't matter where I was. Why are you freaking out about it?! What's wrong with you?!"

"What's wrong? WHAT'S WRONG? England had a fit last night, of which I still don't understand what happened and then I find your bed empty and you're nowhere to be found. One brother is screaming in pain and the other is missing. Don't you think that's A BIT MUCH TO HANDLE IN ONE GO?!" Scotland yelled, looking absolutely enraged. Northern Ireland shrank back fearfully, his eyes wide with surprise and fear.

England winced at Scotland's harsh voice, spotting a hint of panic behind his angry words. But England didn't want Scotland to yell at Northern Ireland more. He had a better idea than Scotland where Northern Ireland had been, or more with whom he had been with. But Northern Ireland didn't look like he wanted to admit to it… would he be in trouble if England told Scotland what he saw last night? Maybe he would be… England looked up at Scotland cautiously and rasped quietly, "Scotland please…"

The elder brother turned his head around quickly to look at England and upon seeing England's worried expression, his anger seemed to die down. Realizing how harsh he must have sounded, he turned back to look at Northern Ireland and said apologetically, "I'm sorry North… I just had a really bad night and… I really don't want to have to chain you here to stop you from disappearing like that. You do know how much you make us worry when you just leave without a word. Why can't you stay put when we tell you to?"

"And why does it matter so much?!" Northern Ireland exclaimed, looking annoyed. "You don't have to freak out like that, I know how to take care of myself. I'm not a mere plantation anymore for God's sake! I'm a nation, like you. I don't have to listen to your orders!"

Scotland frowned at that and he replied sternly, "You're the youngest of the family, you still need to listen to what we say. You may be a nation, but that doesn't make you a mature avatar. What we say still goes."

"Oh really?" Northern Ireland snorted, looking at Scotland glumly. He huffed as he walked past Scotland and started making his way upstairs, his feet stomping on the steps.

"Where do you think you're going now?" Scotland demanded, sounding confused as he turned around and went after Northern Ireland, stopping just at the bottom of the stairs.

"To my room, if that is not against the law yet!" Northern Ireland declared loudly, sounding still very miffed. He reached his room and slammed the door shut so hard that England almost thought that he'd break it.

Scotland called out, "Don't you dare-!" A click was heard coming from the closed door, indicating that Northern Ireland had locked the door. Scotland finished tiredly, "…lock the door."

"Already done!" Northern Ireland replied smugly through the door.

The Scot pointed out sceptically, "I'll just knock the door down like always then." When he got no answer from the Irish avatar, Scotland exhaled loudly and returned to the kitchen table. England couldn't help but look at Scotland cautiously, trying to see if his brother was still angry. Scotland looked down at England and noticed his wary expression.

He sat down at the other chair and spoke to England earnestly, "Don't worry England, I won't do anything. I'm not that angry anymore."

"You're frightening when you're that angry…," England admitted quietly, looking down at his cereals and continuing to eat them. Silence followed for a while, making England wonder whether he had offended Scotland with that comment. He didn't dare raise his head to see Scotland's expression.

After a while, Scotland sighed sadly, "You're not the first to notice… then again, you, Ireland and I are quite infamous for our angry outbursts." He became silent, looking thoughtful. He continued, "But it probably doesn't help that I didn't sleep after… that, I'm already very worried about you and Northern Ireland isn't helping things by disappearing like that."

"Has Northern Ireland ever been hurt when he went off on his own?" England questioned curiously whilst looking at Scotland. This was the only way it would make sense for Scotland to react so harshly.

"A few times, yes. But it has never killed his desire to continue wandering off when he feels like it," Scotland replied as he rolled his eyes. He then added, "Still, maybe I should apologise to him again later. I shouldn't have yelled at him like that. Thank you that you spoke up, or else it could have gotten worse."

"…Gotten worse?" England questioned fearfully, wondering what Scotland meant by that.

"Don't worry about it, it didn't get to that point thankfully," Scotland answered nonchalantly, smiling simply at England.

"Yes, but what do you mean by "gotten worse"?" England pressed, unwilling to let the subject go. He wanted to know what Scotland meant by those words.

Scotland grimaced a bit, looking away from England and concentrating on something on the ground. After a few minutes of hesitation, he replied warily, "You know… ah, it's not very easy for me to say it… let's just say that I've done things in the past that I now regret…," Scotland trailed off, unable to continue. He stood up from his chair and he went to lean against the counter, still looking uncomfortably at the floor.

The younger nation nodded slowly, accepting that Scotland wasn't comfortable with talking about it. Both nations remained once again silent for a while, neither knowing what else to say. England's throat still felt rather sore but he was glad that he had found his voice. But he still didn't feel like he could tell Scotland what had happened, what pain had caused him to scream. Scotland seemed to accept that though.

The silence was broken when Scotland's phone started ringing loudly on the kitchen counter. Scotland looked up from the ground and stared at the phone blankly for a few seconds, as if he wasn't truly acknowledging that the phone was really ringing. He snapped out of it quickly and reached for the phone, answering it, "Hello?"

England looked at Scotland, wondering who was calling so early. It was barely 7:00 am, who would be already calling? Scotland didn't say anything for a while, listening closely to what the person on the other side was saying.

The elder brother looked thoughtful before he concluded, "So you think I should come over today? It doesn't sound as if it'd be any safer for you to continue searching alone."

He waited for the other to answer and then he nodded solemnly, saying, "Alright, I'll be over soon. I'll just need to ask Cornwall or someone else to watch over England and North. Be careful out there." Scotland then hanged up on the other.

England asked curiously, "Who was it? What happened? Where are you going?"

"It's Ireland… you know, he's looking for someone who might know what the dark voice in your mind is and then maybe find out how to get rid of it," Scotland explained. "Well, Ireland was attacked while looking for that someone so now he thinks that it would be better if I come along with him. It is always safer to be two nations than being on your own when searching for someone from the Otherworld."

"Was Ireland hurt?" England asked worriedly.

Scotland replied calmly, "As he says, just a couple of scratches. Don't worry about him, he knows the Otherworld quite well and understands what dangers await him. Though I think I should accompany him, since apparently hostile beings are present in the area he's searching. It wouldn't be good for him to be on his own if he is overpowered by his attackers."

Thinking it over, England suddenly realised that he had missed something. He demanded, "Hold on, why is Ireland looking for that someone? You're trying to find out what the dark voice is? When were you going to mention that to me?"

"Eh… today actually?" Scotland smiled sheepishly, looking at England apologetically. He sighed, "We didn't think of keeping it from you, we just didn't want you to start worrying about it. Ireland and I are fairly convinced that the dark voice is not natural and we even have an idea where to look. The only thing is that we need to find someone who really knows a lot about the Otherworld creatures."

"You think the dark voice came… from that place, the Otherworld?" England questioned hesitantly.

"More than likely," Scotland answered firmly. He then added, "Alright then, I'll just call Cornwall to see if he can watch over North and you." He started dialling another number on the phone.

England slid down from his chair and approached Scotland quickly, shaking his head, "You don't have to do that, I'm sure Northern Ireland and I can take care of ourselves. We don't have to ask Cornwall."

Scotland chuckled before yawning widely, "Nice try England, but I can't let you two be on your own. What if you have another fit again? I would rather prefer that Cornwall would be there at least to make sure you two are fine. Dear Lord I'm tired… I think I should drink two coffees for good measure."

"But what will Cornwall do that Northern Ireland wouldn't be able to do? And what's wrong with Northern Ireland that he needs to be "watched over" as well?" England pointed out sceptically, looking at Scotland unconvinced.

"England, please be reasonable. We don't know if Northern Ireland has been damaged by the dark voice and you just had a fit. You don't know if you'll have another. Cornwall is the best choice for now," Scotland reasoned, looking at England sternly. He then proceeded to call Cornwall.

* * *

A short while later, England and Scotland were approaching Cornwall's house. Northern Ireland had once again… disappeared? All England knew is that when Scotland went to North's room and broke the door down to get the younger nation to go along with them, he discovered the window ajar and no Irish avatar present in the room. Thankfully Scotland hadn't gotten too angry, but he was quite annoyed that Northern Ireland had sneaked out again.

England was still sceptical over having Cornwall watch him. He was extremely tired and only wanted to sleep. On top of that, Scotland seemed to forget that Cornwall wasn't exactly the most stable avatar. What if England had another fit and caused Cornwall to panic? Then his alternative self would resurface. Though he hadn't shown any desire to hurt England before, he wasn't too sure how lucky he would be next time.

Thus they stopped in front of Cornwall's door and Scotland rang the doorbell. Cornwall opened the door and greeted the two UK nations warmly, "Good morning Scotland and England."

"I wish it was," Scotland smiled a bit grimly, before letting out a loud yawn. England followed shortly after with a smaller yawn.

Cornwall cocked his head to one side as he questioned, "Neither of you had a lot of sleep I suppose?"

"Well, I already mentioned to you on the phone what happened," Scotland responded, looking meaningfully down at England. Cornwall nodded his understanding and remained silent. Scotland looked down at England with a smile and nudged him towards Cornwall gently. "I'll come and pick you up later in the night, alright? Don't worry about us too much, we'll be fine."

England looked behind him at Scotland quietly, wondering if he should say anything. He stepped closer to Cornwall and turned around to face the Scot. He finally said, "Don't do anything stupid Scotland."

"As if I would!" Scotland laughed. He added a bit lamely, "I've done about every stupid thing one can do in the Otherworld without being killed. You don't have to worry about that anymore." With a small wave, Scotland turned around and started walking away from England and Cornwall. Within a few seconds, he disappeared into thin air.

The small nation turned around and walked into Cornwall's home, the Cornish avatar closing the door behind him quietly. He walked to stand beside England, looking at him intently. England yawned once more, feeling very tired.

Cornwall asked casually, "So, what would you like to do?"

"Sleep," England answered sleepily, there was nothing else on his mind. A bed had never seemed so desirable to England like right now.

"Ah yes, Scotland explained to me what happened last night. I'm very sorry that it happened," Cornwall smiled at England sympathetically, patting his shoulder comfortably. He added, "I'll prepare the guest bed for you, a few hours sleep will be good for you." Cornwall walked off deeper into the house, disappearing into presumably the guest room.

England let out a renewed yawn and went to sit on the sofa. He had already seen Cornwall's house from yesterday so he had seen everything there was to see. It was a cosy little house, very much like a cottage. Somehow the style fit Cornwall, the house had a warm and kind atmosphere to it. It was a bit on the old-fashioned side, the more modern things such as the television blending in fairly well.

As England was climbing up onto the sofa, his eyes spotted something outside that he hadn't seen before. He climbed and stood up on the sofa, going closer to the window ledge to see what had caught his attention. When he and Northern Ireland had arrived with Cornwall at his house yesterday, the sun had set and not much could be seen outside. That would explain why he had completely missed the stone cottage.

Though it could be discussed how much of a cottage it still was. It was clear that it had been deserted for decades, judging by how much the plants had taken over. The hedges had grown tall and wild, almost engulfing the little cottage's sides. The cottage looked like it had seen better days. It stood perhaps a 2-3 minute walk from Cornwall's house, going a bit downhill. England wondered why this cottage had fallen into so much disuse. Who used to live there?

He heard Cornwall coming out of the guest room and approach England. He came to a halt and he asked curiously, "What is it England?"

"That stone cottage…," England replied, turning his head to look at Cornwall, "What is it doing there? Who used to live in it?"

Cornwall walked closer to England and briefly looked outside, a small smile appearing on his face. He looked down at England as he answered, "That's my old cottage, I used to live there a long time ago."

"Really?" England was astonished by that. The smaller avatar added, "Why is it in a bad shape?"

"After 200 years or more of neglect, I doubt any house would be looking very healthy," Cornwall chuckled, going to sit down on the sofa beside England. England followed suit and sat down cross-legged next to Cornwall.

England questioned after a moment of silence, "Why did you move out of it?"

Cornwall sighed, shrugging his shoulders. He answered, "It's a bit complicated, I never consciously left the cottage. Back in the 1700s, I still lived there. Then I got sick and when I fell into a coma, Wales took care of me in his house. When I woke up at the beginning of the 1900s, you had already had this house built and you managed to convince me to start living here rather than go back to the old cottage, which at this point was already starting to look pretty wild."

"But why did you keep it up?" England asked inquisitively, a bit confused by the fact that Cornwall hadn't lived in that cottage for quite a while and yet the cottage still stayed up. Wasn't it perhaps time to pull it down? It looked a bit depressing in the state that it was in.

"You asked the same question a few years ago," Cornwall chuckled as he answered, "And I can't really put it in words why I want to keep it up. It has many memories and I just… can't will myself to have the cottage destroyed. I like going there sometimes, just being around it relaxes me. I don't really go inside anymore seeing as there is that danger that it'll crumble on itself. But as long as it stands, I won't do anything to remove it."

England nodded slowly as he turned to look out of the window, raising himself on his knees to see the stone cottage again. Cornwall asked after a few minutes, "So, would you still like to go to bed and get a couple of hours sleep?"

Considering it for a moment, England replied, "Yes, I think I could afford to sleep for a few hours. I just hope that I'll be able to sleep without getting any nightmares." With that said, England slid down from the sofa and looked up at Cornwall.

Cornwall stood up from the sofa and agreed, "Hopefully so England. You've had more than enough nightmares."

* * *

_England blinked slowly as he arrived in the darkness of his mind. He sighed tiredly, rubbing his eyes sleepily and sitting down to await the inevitable arrival of the dark voice. He was too tired to even bother with setting up the white dome. If the dark voice wanted to hurt him, then he should. Oddly enough, England found himself not caring of what was going to happen to him._

_Apparently whatever had happened to his mind was still being felt. It was a dull pain now, but England was uncomfortable with it. He had yet to understand what had exactly happened the other night. _

_When a slight shiver ran down his back, England looked up, expecting to see the dark voice. He saw a dark form crawling just by him. What struck him as odd was that the dark voice didn't say anything and it didn't even turn to look at England. _

_Confused by that, England stood up and crept closer to the form. As he reached out to touch the form, the part he was about to touch shied away violently. The form raised itself slightly and turned around towards England. It morphed itself into a very hazy silhouette of a person but there was something off about the dark voice._

_As it opened its eyes, England was struck by how dull and pained they were. There was no frenzy glint in those eyes, they seemed to be in the same amount of pain as England, if not more. _

_The dark voice was… suffering?_

_A large triumphant smile appeared on England's face. It felt good to see his torturer suffer for once. The dark voice more than deserved to be in pain after what it has had England go through. In all those months, England had never dreamed that the dark voice was capable of being hurt._

"_So, how does it feel to be in pain? It's not a very good feeling, is it?" England asked smugly, walking closer to the dark voice. He stretched out his two arms experimentally, reaching for the dark voice. The form jerked back, as if England's hands were going to burn it._

_Feeling more daring, England moved quickly towards the form and wrapped his arms around the dark voice's "neck". The dark voice hissed loudly in pain, falling down with England on top of it as it writhed helplessly. The hiss was hollow and harsher than a cat's hiss, hiding behind the sound the amount of pain the ego was feeling. _

_It rolled around a few times, attempting to dislodge England this way. England held on tightly, not willing to let go. The dark voice let out a growl as it sunk into the ground, taking England with it. _

_They were suddenly in water, black bubbles floating past England and tickling his cheeks. It was dark and murky water, England was barely able to see his surroundings. The water kept getting colder and colder as the dark voice dragged him deeper. Despite being underwater, England noticed that he was breathing normally. How was that possible?_

_While England was thinking this over, the dark voice shook itself harshly and England lost his grip. However, before the dark voice managed to shake him off, England grabbed onto the dark voice's arm-like limb. He was afraid that the dark voice would turn around and attack him, it seemed a lot more at ease in the water. _

_The dark voice let out a muffled screech as England squeezed its arm tightly. It seemed to lengthen and change its silhouette into something larger. The eyes became larger and they started glowing poisonous green. The neck stretched until it was able to rear its head high and glare at England lividly. _

_England could only stare petrified, not knowing what he should do. Something told him that he should release the dark voice and flee, but flee where? He was surrounded in water and he wouldn't be able to swim quick enough to get away from the dark voice. _

_There was a low rumbling growl and England had only a split-second before seeing the dark voice open its snout-like maw and diving towards the small nation. There was a snap of the jaws and suddenly everything went dark. _

_Did the dark voice just swallow him? England shivered a bit, finding himself sitting in a small puddle of water. He stood up and suddenly everything moved beneath him. The more England tried to keep his balance, the more the ground seemed to shake. He felt the ground jerk from horizontal to vertical, causing England to start falling head-first through the dark emptiness. _

_England's eyes watered as air rushed past him, wondering silently what was going to happen. A glint caught his eye far ahead of him. The small nation narrowed his eyes as he tried making out what had caught his attention. It looked like a smooth surface… and England was falling right towards it. _

_He was going to smash into the solid-looking surface._

_Closing his eyes, England flipped forward so that he was falling feet-first. That wasn't really going to save him from the impact but at least he wouldn't be crashing face-first into the strange surface. He held his breath, bracing himself for the inevitable crash._

_It never came. England cracked one of his eyes open to see what was going on. He had seemingly smashed into the surface but he had never felt the impact. Evidently though, the surface hadn't been that solid and it had broken into several shards. Just like a window._

_But everything moved slowly. England was no longer falling that quickly, he felt like he was in water again. The shards floated past him, disappearing into thin air. England was starting to have difficulty breathing, as if the air was making itself scarce. He started coughing harshly when he felt smoke enter his lungs. He felt everything spinning around him quickly, causing England to feel sick from all the swirling motion. _

_When the spinning finally stopped, England opened his eyes to see what was in front of him. He was lying on his back in a field of wild grass. England sat up and looked around him, wondering where he had landed. The sky looking menacingly dark, as if a storm was brewing up? Or was that smoke? England stood up and stumbled slightly, still feeling a bit dizzy from before. Once he had regained his balance and was feeling better, England started walking across the field, keeping his gaze on the dark sky. _

_Looking around, he noticed that not all of the sky was dark. A part of it was definitely lighter than the other. The more England looked at the dark part, the more convinced he became that it was smoke. _

_Climbing up a hill, England reached the top and looked down. There was smoke everywhere and England saw fire approaching him. England gazed at the fire in mute horror, he could see that it had devoured a lot of the land already. _

_At the bottom of the hill, England spotted three forms struggling to get away from the fire. England recognized them as young avatars and he even suspected that Cornwall was one of them. He seemed to be carrying another avatar on his back and was struggling greatly. _

_England quickly trotted downhill and approached Cornwall and the two other avatars. As he came closer, he saw that Cornwall was carrying an unconscious blonde-haired girl on his back and was closely followed by a smaller boy who had dark curly brown hair. Cornwall looked up and spotted England._

"_Please, help me…," Cornwall gasped as he fell on his knees, coughing loudly as he tried to keep the girl on his back. _

_England felt his lips move and he asked nervously, "Where is Albion?"_

"_Cymru, please…," Cornwall pleaded, trying to struggle back to his feet while still keeping the girl on his back. England was in Wales' body now? Cymru is Wales' native name after all… but why would a memory of Wales be in his mind? Cornwall continued, "These lands are burning and Breizh and Britonia are directly connected to them. Breizh has already passed out from the pain. They're both going to die if we don't get them off the island."_

"_Albion is also connected to these lands! Where is she Kernow?!"Cymru yelled, sounding panicked. England squirmed and twisted, and surprisingly, he managed to get out of Cymru's body so that he had more freedom to move around. _

_England turned around and saw that it was indeed Cymru, a younger Wales. Actually, England appeared a bit older than his brothers and the others. England believed that he was somewhere around the size of an 8-9 year-old while Cymru, Kernow and the blonde girl Breizh seemed to be more around the appearance of 6 year olds, the smaller boy Britonia being possibly a year or two younger in appearance. _

_Cymru was looking very distressed while Kernow and Britonia just looked completely petrified. Cymru demanded again, his voice raising in pitch, "Kernow, where did you last see Albion?! Where is she?! Why isn't she here?! Why isn't she with you?!"_

_Kernow burst out, "I DON'T KNOW! I don't know where she is! She was behind us for a while but when Breizh collapsed, I turned around and saw that Albion wasn't behind me anymore. I couldn't look for her, I had to continue and get Breizh and Britonia away from the fire."_

"_You mean Albion is still back there?!" Cymru questioned hoarsely, his eyes wide. He shook his head as he declared, "I have to go after her then." _

"_No, don't go after her!" Kernow exclaimed, "She is bigger than us, surely our elder sister knows how to take care of herself. You have to help me take Breizh and Britonia to the coast, there's a boat waiting for them there. They have to leave the island if they are to survive."_

"_I still have to go after her," Cymru insisted, starting to walk around Kernow towards the burning lands. He added, "She could be hurt or stuck somewhere. What if she needs help? She could die!" He started walking closer to where the fire was burning._

"_What if she's already dead?!" Kernow shouted, tears of frustration beginning to trickle down his cheeks. He cried, "Why go back when she could be already dead? I can't lead Breizh and Britonia on my own, Breizh is getting heavy and Britonia is getting weaker and is having enough difficulty following me. You've got to help me!"_

"_And what if I don't go and she dies because of my absence?" Cymru countered, frowning darkly. "I can't leave her behind like this, we owe her everything. I have to know… and I can't let her die out there." _

"_You'd rather let three siblings die instead of letting just one die?!" Kernow screamed, looking very terrified and distraught. Cymru looked at Kernow in shock, shifting his gaze to look at the unconscious Breizh and then down at the small Britonia who was cowering behind Kernow._

_Britonia looked up at Kernow fearfully, rasping in a small voice, "Kernow, please can we get away from here? The pain is getting really bad."_

_Cymru looked between Kernow and the fire back and forth, clearly not knowing what side he should choose. He was beginning to look more conflicted than ever and he narrowed his eyes. He turned to face the fires and after a moment of consideration, he took off running, slaloming swiftly around the fires and disappearing into the smoke._

"_CYMRU!" Kernow yelled loudly, starting to cough harshly again. Britonia looked at Kernow in panic before he started to cough too, smoke billowing out of his mouth. He tried stopping the smoke but he choked on it instead and collapsed to the ground. _

_Kernow looked down at the fallen brother, his face twisting with anguish as he looked around frantically. He attempted to pick Britonia's limp body up but Breizh started slipping off his back. Kernow bent down to his knees and grabbed one of Breizh's arm and pulled her back on his back, while he pulled Britonia closer to him. Kernow cast his gaze around wildly, looking completely hopeless and agitated._

_Kernow whimpered helplessly, "I need help, someone please help me. Cymru you fool, she's probably already dead or dying and these two are also going to die." He looked up towards the dark sky and he called out in a panicked voice, "Cumbria! Cumbria! Brother please hear me, I need your help! Please!" _

_England could only look at Cornwall sadly, knowing that the young avatar must be completely terrified. It must be horrible to be stuck in such a situation on your own. But who was Cumbria?_

_As if sensing the question, the ground moved beneath England's feet and everything shifted so that he was suddenly in another place entirely. He had landed in front of someone else, a young avatar of similar age as Cymru and Kernow and looked a lot like Wales. Was that Cumbria? A feeling told him that it was. Apart from having a bit more red in his dark brown hair, Cumbria really had the same kind of face as Wales. _

_Looking around, England saw that he was in a hilly landscape but there was no hint of a fire. However when he looked behind him, he saw from a far distance the smoke snaking its way up into the sky. It looked pitch-black back there, giving off a very ominous feeling. Cumbria was staring at the billowing smoke critically, his dark green eyes narrowed. _

_Cumbria muttered under his breath, "What in God's name is going on over there?" He then cocked his head to one side and England could faintly hear a voice calling, though it seemed more like a result of the echoing through the hills. Cumbria though seemed to pick up on the sounds better and seemed to recognize who was calling. _

_A worried look appeared on his face and he started running in the direction of the smoke. England followed Cumbria a bit before stopping, briefly wondering how big the fire must be to make this much smoke. _

_Once again the ground shifted and suddenly England found himself hovering up high in the sky. The small nation panicked a bit, having not expected to be so high up. It was a little unsettling for England, though after a minute or too, it became interesting for him to be able to see the world from a bird's point of view. No wonder birds liked flying, that sense of freedom was amazing! _

_England looked down at the land and any sense of awe and wonder he had felt before evaporated quickly. He looked on with sadness and grief at the state of the land, the fire had really done a lot of damage to it. The blackened earth appeared to seemingly stretch towards the eastern horizon, the line of fire marching on in the opposite direction directly beneath England. The fire moved swiftly, reducing the lush green of the land into ashes. The smoke was rising up towards England, bringing with it malicious embers that glowed smugly. A wind blew the smoke away from England and brought the embers to the remaining undamaged lands._

_Understanding that this memory for some strange reason was able to answer his questions, England asked angrily, "Who started this fire?" The surroundings around him shifted and England was transported to another place, landing on the burnt soil gently. Before him stood a group of seven young avatars whom England didn't really recognize. England could only say for certain that there were 4 boys and 3 girls and most of them had various shades of blonde hair. _

_They were all carrying in one hand a flaming torch, no doubt the cause of the fire. Looking behind them, England saw that there were many more humans who were all carrying torches. So that's why the fire managed to become this big. In the background, England could see the remains of forests and small villages._

_He looked at the 7 young avatars furiously, not knowing who they were but disliking them already for having caused so much damage and death. The closest avatar to him looked eerily similar to England, the blonde hair was just lighter and he had icy blue eyes. _

_The England-look alike turned to look at the six other avatars with a wide grin, calling out, "Oi Mercia, Northumbria and Kent! Why don't we catch up with this fire and try to see what our dear half-siblings are up to? Essex, Sussex and East Anglia, you three stay here and look for loot in those villages. I'm certain that these greedy Britons would have hidden some of their treasures there."_

_One blonde boy and two blonde girls nodded swiftly in understanding, turning around and racing towards the burnt villages. A pale blond girl approached the England look-alike with a wide grin, asking, "Which half-siblings to you have in mind Wessex?"_

_Wessex smirked as he replied, "Oh you know very well who I'm referring to Mercia."_

"_Maybe we should get moving, the fire is going very quickly and has probably burned more than half of the Britons' lands," One of the two unnamed boys commented casually, looking at Wessex and Mercia with an unreadable expression. Something told England that this brown-haired boy was called Kent. The other darker brown-haired boy nodded silently._

_Wessex rolled his eyes as he said, "Alright Kent and Northumbria, we'll go now." He and the three other avatars started making their way towards the fire. England's gaze followed them, frowning angrily at them. He hated how casual and uncaring they sounded, like if they were fully aware of the destruction they had caused and didn't care at all. _

_Then an interesting thought occurred to England: During all this, where had he been actually? He closed his eyes and felt his surroundings morph into something new. When he reopened his eyes, he found himself surrounded by fire. He had before him a distressed younger England, tears streaming down his face as he walked in a circle, desperately trying to find a way out of the fire. _

_He opened his mouth and attempted to call out but he started choking on the dangerous fumes. The smaller England collapsed to his knees tiredly, starting to cry harder as the heat of the fire crept nearer. His fate seemed decided, he was going to perish on this spot. Suddenly the current England heard someone yell in surprise. _

_The smaller England looked up and both Englands saw a large branch coming through the fire, coming nearer to the small avatar. The smaller England looked at the branch for only a split-second before grabbing it firmly between his two hands. Whoever was holding the branch on the other side lifted it and England higher, quickly hauling him over the fire. _

_The current England only hesitated briefly before walking through the fire, reminding himself that this was a memory and the fire couldn't hurt him. After walking through the fire for a minute of two, England arrived at the foot of a boulder. Looking up, he spotted the branch and spotted the smaller England slowly creeping down using his arms. England swiftly jumped on a few rocks and climbed to the top of the boulder. He was surprised at what he saw. _

_It was Wessex who was holding the large branch over his head. When the smaller England was nearer, Wessex grabbed him and let go of the branch, allowing it to fall in the fire. The younger avatar climbed onto Wessex's shoulder, wrapping his arms around the Anglo-Saxon's head. _

_Wessex smiled as he greeted, "Hello little one, you're very lucky that I saw you there. Or else you would have been reduced to just ashes. I would have left you if you were a Celt but you don't really look that Celtic. You actually look a lot like me. Fancy that, eh?"_

_The smaller England looked at Wessex uncertainly, however seemed more than grateful that the Anglo-Saxon avatar had come to his rescue. He looked around a bit warily when he saw Mercia, Northumbria and Kent gather around the small avatar curiously._

_This thoroughly confused the current England. If they were such a cruel and uncaring bunch, why had Wessex come to help? Why did Mercia, Northumbria and Kent appear so curious and inquisitive, their cruelty inexistent? They even looked slightly friendly as the smaller England stared at them silently, Mercia and Wessex starting to smile fondly at the young avatar. _

_This made no sense to the current England. Here they were, on a boulder that was half surrounded by fire, fire that these avatars had started, and they were gathered around the smaller avatar being friendly. Eventually they jumped off the boulder and continued on their way to avoid being cornered by the fire, the small England staying comfortably on Wessex's shoulder. _

_England stared after them blankly, his thoughts still very disorganized by what he had just observed. He then started feeling as if he was sinking, the picture of the fire burning moving further away from him. Soon black started surrounding the memory, forcefully separating England from the memory. England frowned and he tried following after the memory, but the darkness around him collapsed on him, causing him to lose sight of the memory. _

_The nation frowned as he shook his head, annoyed that he had been separated from the memory. That was certainly new, normally he couldn't get out of the memory this easily. Two green orbs suddenly caught England's eyesight. England narrowed his eyes, trying to see what it was._

_The green orbs were moving towards him, going up and down slightly. But England couldn't see what the green orbs were exactly. It wasn't until they were a lot closer that England began to suspect what they were._

_By the time he realized that it was possibly the eyes of the dark voice, the dark voice let out a vicious scream as it launched itself at England. England barely managed to avoid it, his heart pounding with fear. The dark voice landed just a few steps away from the Brit, the form having now a more quadruped form. It had a longer snout than usual and it was baring its sharp dangerous teeth at England. Its eyes were glowing ominously and it growled hollowly, slinking in a circle around England. _

_The legs seemed to melt together and the form became less solid and foggier. The body of the dark voice grew larger until it was towering over England, the rest of the body pooling around England like tides. _

_The dark voice abruptly dived towards England, its mouth wide open and a shrill scream erupting from it. _

* * *

England jerked awake suddenly, his eyes wide and his heart still beating loudly. A small gasp escaped his mouth but after a few seconds, he relaxed as he realized that he was awake and the dark voice had failed to hurt him. He let out a sigh of relief, happy that he was out of that nightmare.

But what an odd memory… it was different from the usual memories that England would normally have. Why had it been able to answer his questions? Why was he able to see from different points of views? This wasn't just his memory. It was Wales', Cornwall's, Cumbria's and one of the Anglo-Saxon's memories too. But what were those memories doing in England's head? At what point had he received those memories?

Well… England didn't discover those memories in the traditional way. He had been "swallowed" by the dark voice to get to those memories. So his ego was harbouring those memories? How? For what reason?

England became aware of hushed whispering. He listened more closely and made out Cornwall's voice as he was talking to a female avatar whose voice England could not recognize.

Cornwall pointed out quietly, "I'm sorry Brittany, but we can't talk here. England is asleep right now and I don't want to wake him up. Could you pass by later?"

"Hold on a moment, England is here? Sleeping? How come?" The female avatar, apparently named Brittany, questioned curiously.

"Scotland went with Ireland to search in the Otherworld and he asked me to watch over England. He told me that England had a fit last night, but he doesn't know what happened exactly. England is tired from that night so now he's resting," Cornwall answered, trying his best to keep his voice down.

"Aww, poor thing. I hope he's feeling better. But if he's that tired, you shouldn't have to worry about him waking up easily. We can just go to the living room and close the door. I'm certain that won't disturb his sleep," Brittany suggested, sounding hopeful.

"We… could try that, if you really want to," Cornwall agreed hesitantly.

"Cornwall, you're my brother. I like coming by just to chat with you. I doubt that England has supersonic hearing so we won't be disturbing him if we close the door. And then you could introduce me to him later, I haven't had a chance to talk to him yet," Brittany proposed softly.

Cornwall seemed to accept Brittany's proposition as England heard the two nations walk to the living room and close the door behind them quietly. After some shuffling, England could hear their muffled voices but he couldn't make out what they were saying anymore. England lay in bed just for a few minutes before he started moving.

England sat up in bed and slid out of it, reaching for his pullover on a chair beside the bed. He caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror of the guest room, causing him to pause uncertainly. He walked closer to the mirror and took off his shirt to look more closely at his neck.

An ugly bruise marred his neck, almost in the shape of a hand choking England. England frowned as he turned around, spotting a few more bruises that dotted his back. How had they come there? Those bruises weren't there before England went to sleep… and he hadn't felt the initial pain of being struck there. Actually, he couldn't feel any pain at all!

Looking worried, England grabbed his pullover and pulling it over his head. Luckily it was a turtleneck pullover so he would be able to cover his bruises. He was afraid of mentioning them to anyone, what if they reacted negatively? What if he caused them more unnecessary worry? It wasn't worth mentioning his bruises.

Making sure his bruises were covered, England made his way out of the guest room into the hallway. Suddenly an idea struck him: While Cornwall and Brittany believed that England was going to sleep for a while, why not take advantage of it? England was curious to explore the old stone cottage outside and he'd had the impression that Cornwall wouldn't let him go there if he had voiced that desire. Somehow Cornwall sounded like that type of person… not that England disliked it that much. But it wouldn't hurt Cornwall if England just had a peek.

Wandering down the hallway silently, England reached the kitchen and discovered the backdoor slightly ajar. Cornwall must have forgotten to close it properly. England tiptoed his way to the backdoor and he slipped out, confident that he hadn't made any noise to alert Cornwall.

Happy that he had managed to get out this easily, England trotted down the small dusty trackway leading down to the deserted cottage, his curiosity for the abandoned place growing. It was a rather cold and grey day, a bit depressing actually. It was a shame that there was no sun today but at least it wasn't raining.

When England got closer to the house, he heard a lot of rustling in the hedges. Looking around, he saw swift rabbits bolting away and hiding in the hedges surrounding the cottage or hopping further downhill.

The small nation approached the cottage carefully, looking at it with inquisitive eyes. It looked even sadder from up close, the roof seemed almost ready to collapse. It had no windows and it looked like it was barely able to keep standing.

Walking closer to the heavy and rotten wooden door, England hesitantly pushed against it to open it. It was so heavy that it creaked slowly open, the hinges complaining painfully after being neglected for so long.

As England entered the stone cottage, he noticed just how dark it was inside. He stepped inside and inhaled the dank musty smell of the cottage. A couple of memories flickered at the back of his mind, informing England that his old self had been in this house a few times.

In a very strange manner, the memory started infiltrating England's view while he stayed fully aware of his surroundings. It was rather strange to suddenly see the cottage as it was in better days and at the same time, the desolate location it had become. England couldn't really explain this dual view and how it was not hurting his eyes. Somehow he could just see both past and present simultaneously without much trouble.

_Before the current England stood an older England and a very sickly-looking Cornwall. Cornwall was crouching in front of the hearth at the corner of the cottage, trying to keep a feeble flame alive. He had a dark blanket wrapped around his shaking frame. Cornwall coughed a couple of times but continued stoking the fire, his back turned on the older England as the county avoided the nation._

_England grimaced as he looked about him, studying Cornwall's home disdainfully. The English-speaking nation questioned, "Why do you insist on staying in such a drafty dwelling as this Cornwall? I do have the means in having a better house built for you. It isn't necessary to demean yourself further by living like a peasant."_

_Cornwall looked at England, barely concealing his dislike for the other. He replied coldly, "I don't need a new house. I've built this house myself and I've been maintaining it since then. I like this cottage. It's my home."_

_The nation raised a thick eye-brow at the Cornish avatar and he pointed out in an insulted tone, "It is unbecoming of an English county to live in such conditions." _

_Throwing the stoker on the ground, Cornwall straightened up and turned to face England, exclaiming angrily, "I am not English! I am a Cornish avatar, always have been and always will be!" _

_England seemed taken aback by Cornwall's outburst and then he spoke sternly, "You belong to the English crown, therefore you are an English avatar. Is this the reason why you've been looking so sickly lately? Are you refusing your identity?"_

"_I'm clinging to my identity, or what remains of it," Cornwall muttered lowly, walking over to a pot on the table and stirring the soup that was inside. His hand was shaking badly, no matter how much Cornwall attempted to mask it._

"_You wouldn't be in such a state if you accepted your identity," England countered, shaking his head. "What are you refusing, the English language? That's the language of your people, you shouldn't reject it."_

"_English is not my language and is not my people's language," Cornwall said through gritted teeth. _

"_It is," England replied with a frown. _

"_NO IT ISN'T!" Cornwall exclaimed, clenching his spoon tightly in his hand. "It's Cornish! It's the language I've been born with! Cornish is my native tongue."_

_England looked astonished, "That riffraff of a language? Isn't that language on its last legs?" _

"_Yes, it is dying," Cornwall growled, "which is why I can't accept English. I accept English and I allow part of my heritage to die." _

"_Surely a local language shouldn't mean that much to you," England protested, looking at Cornwall in confusion. Cornwall finished stirring his soup and poured some of it into a cracked bowl. _

_He sat down heavily on his chair and pulled the bowl closer to him. Cornwall answered slowly, "It means more than you'll ever know. And it's dying thanks to you pushing English on my people. Remember the Prayer Book Rebellion? It was hardly necessary to use that much violence."_

_England sighed tiredly, "Cornwall, do you have any idea what you're doing at all? By refusing of letting go, by refusing to follow your people, you're weakening the link between you and them. You're killing yourself." _

"_Then so be it," Cornwall declared glumly, looking at his bowl blankly. He frowned and then glared at England, saying, "It doesn't matter, I'd rather die with my honour intact than continue living as a successfully Anglicized avatar."_

"_So you're willing to abandon your people just like that?" England demanded, looking very frustrated with the sick Cornishman. _

_Cornwall looked conflicted at that, looking away from England. Anger soon returned into his two differently-coloured eyes and he glowered at England as he questioned, "And why does it matter so much to you?!" _

_England looked at Cornwall furiously before striding over to the county and slamming his hands on the table. He grabbed tufts of light brown hair that lay scattered on the table and showed it to Cornwall, voice shaking at he replied, "Because I care what happens to my counties, contrary to popular belief! Look at all this hair you're losing! Have you seen how pale and thin you've become lately? You're killing yourself over a language! We may not always like what our people decide to do, but this is no excuse to stop following them!" _

_The Cornish county looked at England with wide, surprised eyes. After a few minutes, he shook his head and he stood up abruptly. The bowl fell over the edge and shattered on the cold ground in pieces. He growled, "I don't need your pity. Leave me be."_

_England stared at Cornwall in a stunned silence and looked slightly hurt, though he managed to quickly mask it. He looked at Cornwall coldly as he concluded, "Fine, I can see that there is no way I can convince you. Continue this route and you will surely die. It doesn't really matter, these lands will provide a new avatar to represent your people. Frankly, I don't care what becomes of you."_

_The nation turned to walk away, making his way towards the door. Cornwall glared after England before he started coughing loudly and suddenly he collapsed on the ground. England turned around and saw that Cornwall was choking, blood gushing out of his mouth. He convulsed, his eyes wide with fear. _

_Eyebrows furrowed in genuine concern, England strode over to Cornwall and attempted to help the county. Cornwall shied away from England's and he rasped with difficulty, "No, go away. You've done enough damage. Leave me alone." England took a few steps back, his expression unreadable. He swiftly walked out of the cottage, casting a last gaze over his shoulder._

_Cornwall managed to sit on his knees, wrapping his blanket around him tighter while he wiped the blood away from his chin with a trembling hand. He bent over himself, closing his eyes tightly as tears started escaping from the corners of his eyes. _

The current England walked towards the crying county, reaching out in the belief he could touch the past Cornwall. Of course his hand went through Cornwall's shoulder and the image flickered only briefly before it faded away. England blinked a few times and then shook his head.

The memory of the place was gone, leaving behind the reality of what had become of this cottage. England wondered why Cornwall wanted to keep this cottage up, all it seemed to exude was negative memories and a depressive atmosphere. Personally England would have the cottage torn down, just for the sake of ridding this place of all its negativity.

Looking around the cottage a bit more, England saw a large rock sitting in a corner of the house. Finding its location odd, England walked towards it and pushed the rock aside. Somehow the ground felt softer under the rock.

Using his hands, England dug into the earth and was surprised to find that it was relatively easy to dig. It was only for a few seconds before his fingers struck something hard and cold. Wiping the dirt away, England discovered a small metal casket.

Curiosity sparked, England reached out for the casket and pulled it out of the hole. Had Cornwall hidden this casket a long time ago? Why? England placed the casket on the ground and studied it briefly before attempting to open it. It was a rather plain casket, having faded colours and scratches all over it. Like the cottage, this casket had certainly seen better days.

When he managed to open it, England found a bundle of letters and papers. Reading however proved difficult as whoever the sender was seemed to have messy writing. He soon found that it was also not in a language England was familiar with. Probably Cornish?

But some of the letters were signed by "Cymru"… so some of the letters were written in Welsh? Going to the bottom of the casket, England discovered one letter that was written in English.

Actually, when England studied that letter, he saw that the letter was meant for him. And it was signed by Wales. With a bit of difficulty, England managed to decipher Wales' surprisingly sloppy writing:

_England, _

_If you've come here to see Cornwall, don't bother. He's not going to come here anymore. I think he's gone back to his birthplace to die. I'm going to go after him. If you won't put any effort in helping him, then I will. I will not lose another sibling._

"_best" regards,  
Wales _

Looking further down, England spotted a small note that he himself must have jotted down more to himself to anyone else:

_Devon kindly informed me that Cornwall's birthplace could be in the village Madron, possibly near the Ding Dong mines… _

England couldn't help but chuckle at the rather silly name. Who had given such an amusing name to mines? England's curiosity was sparked, so generally the birthplace of a nation was not that well known? England wondered what Cornwall's birth place looked like. The name wasn't going to tell him much… and if he tried nation-hopping there?

But he didn't have the image in mind. How could he nation-hop there? After a moment of thinking hard, England wondered: Did one actually need an image to be able to nation-hop? Couldn't he use the names instead? How many villages were named Madron and had mines next to it named the Ding Dong mines? There couldn't be that many…

The Brit put the papers back in the casket and put the casket back into the hole, filling it with the dirt again. He placed the rock back in its place and England wiped the dirt off of his hands. His hands were rather dirty now but England could always wash his hands with water later one.

Right now his curiosity for Cornwall's birthplace was too strong. England walked out of the cottage and he mentally prepared himself to nation-hop, thinking loudly in his mind: _I want to go to the village Madron near the Ding Dong mines. I want to go to Madron, Ding Dong mines. _

As England repeated his request several times in his head, England took a step forward and nation-hopped, hoping that his plan would work. He closed his eyes tightly, repeating the name of the location over and over.

* * *

When England reopened his eyes, he was in a different. He looked around, wondering if it had worked. He had no way of knowing if his idea had worked at all. At least he was still on the island, seeing as he could still see the grey gloomy skies. Though he might as well have landed in Ireland.

He had landed in a rather odd place. England was in a… his mind told him "stone circle". England stared at the nine upright-standing stones, wondering what the name of this place was. He had never seen a stone circle before but the name rang several bells in his mind, as if he was actually familiar with stone circles.

But his plan had not worked that well. England had specified either the village or the mines. He could see neither. Maybe he should have just used one name? His request could have confused the lands and they put him in a place that was near to both the village and the mines?

England walked out of the circle, deciding to use them as a mark in case he got lost. He started walking southwards, hoping that he would find something. He started thinking about the Ding Dong mines, requesting to go there.

Just a few seconds passed and he landed in front of a strange house. It was made out of rock but it had a very peculiar chimney. But was England near the mines at all? England had no clue. Maybe he would find something at this strange house telling him where the mines might be.

With that in mind, England started making his way towards the strange house.

"What are you doing here?" Someone called out, sounding surprised and relieved at the same time.

England turned around and saw Cornwall hurrying towards him. Once Cornwall was beside England, the county laid his left hand on the smaller nation's shoulder and the Cornish exhaled heavily, "Thank God you're safe, you really had me worried there! Have you been here all this time?!"

"Sorry…," England apologized quietly, looking at the ground. He asked hesitantly, "How did you find me?"

"You're on my lands England, I can track your signals easily," Cornwall replied, before he questioned warily, "The better question is what you are doing here of all places? How did you find this place?"

"It was mentioned in a letter?" England answered uncertainly, looking up at Cornwall to gauge the county's reaction to his words.

Cornwall became very apprehensive at that, staring at England carefully. He asked doubtfully, "In what letter?"

England inhaled deeply as he responded uneasily, "I found the letter in a metal casket, buried in the corner of your old cottage?"

"You shouldn't have gone there, the cottage could collapse on top of you," Cornwall scolded, tightening his grip on England's shoulder and putting his right hand on England's other shoulder to turn the little nation to face the taller county. Cornwall crouched down at England's eye-level and he admonished sternly, "You saw from afar in what shape the cottage was. Why did you go there?"

England looked at Cornwall evenly and he admitted, "I was curious and I wanted to see what was inside. You never told me that I wasn't supposed to go."

Cornwall sighed, "Fair point, but you should know from now on that you have to be careful around old buildings, especially if you're alone. And you should also know that it isn't polite to dig up something and snoop through its contents."

The small nation looked down at the ground and apologised, "I'm sorry…"

"You should be, but I suppose I should have hidden the casket better. Or I should have stored those letters in a better place," Cornwall countered, shaking his head as he let go of England's shoulders.

As Cornwall straightened up, England asked curiously, "Why don't you want me to know that I'm near your birthplace?"

Cornwall froze at the question, seemingly shocked to hear it. He looked down at England, deliberating over what he should or should not say. After a few minutes, Cornwall explained, "I don't like other avatars knowing the location of my birthplace… it's an uncomfortable feeling. I used to tell those that I trusted the most but since that trust has been misused… I don't like anyone knowing."

"Who misused your trust?" England asked inquisitively.

At first it seemed like Cornwall was going to refuse to say who it was. He looked quite conflicted, split between trusting England with this knowledge and keeping himself safe. He looked away, refusing to make eye-contact with England. He mumbled quietly, "…Wales."

England was surprised by that answer. Wales? Why would Wales misuse Cornwall's trust? England questioned, "What did Wales do?"

Cornwall grimaced slightly as he answered, "You know, when my language started declining, I got very sick. Then, as I got weaker, I started dying. When an avatar starts dying, they make their way back to their birthplace to die, no matter what. That's what happened to me. I wanted, no, needed, to come back here. To my birthplace. Sadly I had told Wales a long time ago where exactly I had been born. So when Wales knew I had gone back to die, he came after me. He… stopped me from dying."

Pain flitted across Cornwall's eyes as memories returned to him. He swiftly shook his head and he stared at the ground, looking thoughtful. England was confused, why did Cornwall look pained? Did it actually upset him that he hadn't died? Quite puzzled, England asked, "Why do you look unhappy that you didn't die? Aren't you happy that you're alive?"

"Of course I'm glad that I'm alive! But sometimes I wonder…," Cornwall paused, hesitant to continue. "I wonder whether I was supposed to die back then… I was really close to death. I was almost gone. When you're that near to death, when you start feeling light as you're freed from your body… it starts feeling good, disconnecting from all the negativity. And just when you think you're almost gone, someone comes and yanks you back into the harsh reality. It was painful when Wales came and dragged me away. Sometimes I think that… maybe I developed a mental disorder because I was damaged back then, I wasn't meant to continue living. Avatars don't develop disorders."

"Doesn't it count that you did live?" England demanded, a bit angry at finding that Cornwall seemed upset of having survived. He added in an annoyed tone, "Isn't the fact that you survived mean that you weren't meant to die?"

Cornwall frowned at England and then he sighed, shaking his head as he sat down cross-legged next to England. "England, I don't think you understand…"

"Of course I understand!" England exclaimed. "I almost killed myself and I'm very glad that I was saved just in time! I'm happy that I survived. You should be happy too that you're still alive."

"England, you weren't meant to die. If you were meant to die, the poison that you took should have killed you. It didn't. I was meant to die and I was stopped. I missed my chance to go and I paid the price by developing a mental disorder."

England glared furiously at Cornwall and launched himself at the county, hitting him with his small fists. Cornwall shrunk back a bit, surprised by England's actions. England shouted furiously, "Will you stop talking like that?! Don't you think that you're actually hurting Wales by saying this? He went after you and stopped you from dying because he didn't want to lose you. It doesn't matter if you were meant to die or not, you survived and you're still here today. And you should be thankful for that! Can't you see this as just another chance to live? You were given a second chance just as I was given one. We should be thankful that we've been given a second chance."

The Cornish avatar grabbed England's wrists to stop him from delivering any more punches. He looked at the smaller nation angrily as he demanded, "What kind of second chance is it to have a disorder that causes me to blank out at times and always makes me afraid that I'm going to hurt someone?! At least you get the chance to start over."

The Brit argued fiercely, "If you were really supposed to die, Wales wouldn't have been able to stop you from dying. You weren't meant to die. No one is ever meant to die. We all live and we all die, but there is nothing stopping us from living out our existence to its fullest extent."

Cornwall's eyes suddenly hardened and his grip on England's wrist tightened. The county glowered angrily at England, saying coldly, "You have quite the nerve to talk to me like that. I was meant to die, death called to me. You chose to end your life, even though you're perfectly healthy. You have no idea what you're talking about."

England gulped silently, regretting of having caused Cornwall's alternate personality to resurface. He whispered quietly, "Don't hurt me."

"Why should I?" Cornwall demanded, seeming to get angrier. He released England's wrists as he stood up, and then he grabbed England beneath his arm pits and lifted the smaller nation, glaring at him. "Why do you and the others always think that I will hurt you?! I may dislike you, but when have I ever attempted to hurt you?!"

"I don't know," England mumbled uneasily, "But I know that when you get angry like that, you seem unpredictable."

"Well I'm not. I'm not some monster who will hit you when I get the chance. But I do think that when we're talking about dying and death, I have a lot more experience than you have. You've just been reduced to a snotty-nosed child while I've had to continue on with my memories, however painful they were. Don't you dare try to imply that you know more than me!" Cornwall yelled angrily, shaking England a bit.

"CORNWALL YOU STOP THAT THIS INSTANT!" A female voice screamed furiously.

Cornwall and England turned their heads and saw a blond-haired female avatar striding towards them. She was looking rather enraged as she approached them, harshly demanding, "Cornwall, you will put England down this INSTANT!"

The county put England down rather quickly, England could see that Cornwall looked almost a bit scared. The alternate personality of Cornwall, the violent one, was afraid of this avatar. Cornwall tried talking back, "But Brittany, he said that-"

Brittany cut off fiercely, "It doesn't matter what he said! You said you're not violent and then you go on and shake England! What is wrong with you?! No wonder the rest of the family think you could hurt England in this state. Both of you have gone through a situation where you've had a brush with death. England is not superior to you but neither are you. Your experiences are different and you should listen to what England says to at least hear another point of view."

The Cornish avatar regarded Brittany with a mixture of shock and well-justified wariness. He opened his mouth to say something but then he closed it again. After a moment, Cornwall's cold eyes warmed again and the Cornish avatar shook his head to clear his mind. He looked up and saw England and a still-fuming Brittany.

Cornwall asked weakly, "What did I do this time?"

"You grabbed England and shook him while you yelled," Brittany replied, only now showing signs of calming down. She added, "Your alternate personality is a right bastard. I hope I have knocked some sense into him. We all have our flaws but your other you really needs to be less angry."

"I'm sorry," Cornwall apologised, hanging his head. He turned to look at England and he went on one knee, hugging him tightly, "I'm so sorry England, I didn't mean to shake you and yell at you. Did I hurt you?"

England shook his head uncertainly as he replied, "I don't think so… but please don't get angry like that. I just don't like that you're thinking that you were meant to die. I think you should be happy that you get to live longer. I may have been able to start over, but I've had to start completely from zero and I have to deal with a dark voice inside my mind. I don't have it any easier than you."

Cornwall grimaced as he pulled back and straightened, looking apologetic as he answered, "I'm sorry that I became like that, but sometimes I do think like this. I don't usually voice it. I shouldn't have made light of what happened to you, you've also suffered. I suppose the dark voice and my alternate personality are similar, except the fact that you're aware of what the dark voice says and it hurts you. I'm never aware of what my other personality says and I hurt people around me."

"On the subject of your brush with death, Wales and I will have to have a conversation with you Cornwall," Brittany huffed, having finally calmed down. "I had no idea you still thought like that and Wales won't be happy to hear about it either. You should have told us." She went over to England and patted his shoulder, asking gently, "Are you really alright chérie?"

"I'll be fine," England answered, looking up at Brittany. He was a bit shocked that Cornwall had gotten this angry but England hadn't been hurt. There was no need for Brittany and Cornwall to worry over him. He smiled a little as he added, "Not the greatest way to be introduced to me though, huh?"

Brittany smiled at that and she agreed, "Oui, it really wasn't the best situation but it happened. Now you know that I'm Brittany, one of your sisters."

"How many siblings do I have?" England questioned curiously.

"I would say too many but that would be a bit mean," Brittany replied, smiling widely in amusement. She turned to look at Cornwall, apologising, "Sorry that I got angry at you and yelled at you. It's your alternate personality and I know you have no control over what he says."

"Sometimes I wish I didn't have this disorder. But I have to learn to live with it," Cornwall sighed, still looking worried and guilty. It didn't look like he was forgiving himself for the outburst against England. Raindrops started falling from the grey skies, threatening to quickly become a downpour.

"I think we need to go," Brittany commented, looking up at the large grey clouds with a frown of disapproval.

"You two can go back to my place, I'll stay out for a while," Cornwall suggested, looking miserable.

Brittany looked at him and sharply reprimanded him, "Ah non, you're not staying out there to wallow in your misery and get a cold out of this. We will have a talk, but now I think we should all go back to your house and perhaps just watch a movie or something to relax a bit. We all need it." She strode over to Cornwall and grabbed his right hand. Brittany motioned to England to do the same with Cornwall's other hand, which he did.

With the rain quickly turning into a downpour, the UK nation and the French region started leading the unhappy English county back to his own house, all three getting soaked to the skin despite their attempts to go home quickly. But none were too bothered by it. England understood that he wasn't the only one who had been depressed, Cornwall was also affected by his own depression.

This surprised England a bit. It showed that even if an avatar didn't necessarily seem unhappy, it didn't mean that the avatar was completely alright. England was going to pay more attention next time, that much he vowed to do.

* * *

Wales sighed tiredly, "Ah Môn, I don't know want to do anymore." He heavily sat down on his couch, running a tired hand through his brown hair.

"Maybe you shouldn't worry about it too much Cymru," Anglesey reassured gently, sitting beside him.

"But I can't let England remember his past feelings for America, I'm afraid he'll fall in love again," Wales admitted, shaking his head as he looked at Anglesey for advice.

"I don't think there is any cure against love Cymru. We have very little choice over who we fall in love with. If England felt like that about America, it was because he has something that attracts England. If England receives all his memories back, there are chances that he'll find the same thing that caused that attraction," Anglesey explained, smiling sympathetically at him.

Wales asked hesitantly, "So there isn't any way of stopping England from falling back in love with America?"

"I don't think you can stop it Cymru," Anglesey replied slowly, looking at her younger brother a bit suspiciously, "Love can't be controlled. For England not to develop his feelings for America, he would have to not see him for quite a while. Even then it might not work. I think it is almost impossible, I hear that America is very often with him. For England to fall in love is almost inevitable."

"I suppose so," Wales mumbled, looking down at his hands. He then pointed out, "But if England falls in love again and America breaks his heart once more… I don't know what I'd do. It was bad enough the first time around, dealing with a heartbroken England who wouldn't… hah, I don't know if I can deal with it again."

"All you can do is wait and see what happens. America won't necessarily break his heart again and England might be stronger emotionally. You have no need to become so paranoid over this, everything works out eventually," Anglesey spoke patiently, studying Wales sharply. She then asked, "Would you like some tea? I can go make some if you want."

"Sure, I would like some please Mam," Wales answered, smiling a bit as he used the old nickname for Anglesey. Anglesey laughed in response to that and she stood up from the couch, making her way into Wales' kitchen.

Wales stayed on the couch, thinking Anglesey's words over. She really had no idea that she could sometimes give him good ideas. He looked over to the armchair where Northern Ireland was sitting in a crouched position, almost nodding off. The young UK nation had arrived at Wales' house a few hours ago, only explaining that he'd had an argument with Scotland.

Whatever that argument had been about, Northern Ireland refused to say anything about it. Wales would have normally pressed for details but then he saw that Northern Ireland appeared very sleep-deprived. He had either not slept enough or not at all. So Wales had let it go and allowed North in. Northern Ireland had settled on one of the armchairs and had lightly dozed since then, with his arms wrapped around his knees.

"North?" Wales asked softly, wondering if the young nation was still too sleepy.

"Hmm?" Northern Ireland hummed sleepily, opening one blue eye slowly to look at Wales curiously.

Wales leaned forward, staring at Northern Ireland closely as he spoke quietly, "North, I need you to do something for me…"

* * *

How long was it since America heard of England's brothers? It must be at least six days, that much he was certain of. Curious to know how well it was going, America decided to call Scotland and ask if anything important had happened.

After he dialled Scotland's number, America pressed the button and waited for Scotland to pick the call up. It rang a few times and America was surprised that there was no answer. Did Scotland have his mobile phone with him? America was about to hang up when he heard the call being picked up.

There was a fumbling in the background and a sleepy voice mumbled, "Hello?"

"Scotland?" America questioned hesitantly, surprised to hear that Scotland was sounding so tired. Had America miscalculated the time difference? No, it was early morning over here so it was afternoon at Scotland's place. So why did it sound like America had woken Scotland up?

"Yes America?" Scotland asked, yawning very widely. He then cursed under his breath, "Ah shit, I fell asleep here? Ouch, my neck…"

"What happened?" America voiced his confusion, still feeling a bit lost.

There was some movement in the background and Scotland assured, "Nothing bad, don't worry. I just fell asleep in the hallway and I have on hell of a stiff neck now. The floor isn't exactly a good place to sleep on but I fell asleep before I even managed to get to my bed."

"Why are you so tired?" America questioned with a small frown. One had to be very tired to fall asleep in the hallway like that.

"I've been searching. With Ireland. For the god Lugh?" Scotland answered shortly, before adding, "It is very tiring you know, to look in every corner of Ireland's country to get Lugh to show up. He hasn't been cooperating with us at all. Ugh, what day are we even?"

"Umm, it's Wednesday today?" America replied, walking over to his couch and sitting down.

Scotland groaned loudly, "Already?! But… hold on, weren't we Saturday last I checked?"

"Scotland, how long were you asleep for?" America asked, feeling puzzled. How could Scotland think it was still Saturday? Several days had passed since then.

"I wasn't asleep during all that time!" Scotland grumbled. "But when Ireland and I go into the Otherworld, time passes a lot slower, if at all. Neither of us can keep track of time as it is very unpredictable and its always changing. So naturally I would be a bit clueless of what day we are in this world."

"Hold on, you were in the Otherworld already?"

"Aye, but we've had no luck at all in locating Lugh. He's very stubborn unfortunately," Scotland sighed tiredly.

"When are you bringing England to the Otherworld then?" America questioned curiously, sitting up straighter as he paid close attention to what Scotland would say next.

After a few seconds, Scotland answered, "I think we'll take him there tomorrow, towards dusk. Today it's more or less a day for us to regain our strengths. It's no use to take England and Northern Ireland with us to the Otherworld if we're sleep-deprived."

"I'll be joining you guys tomorrow then," America declared confidently. Stunned silence followed America's words and the American awaited Scotland's response impatiently. Scotland couldn't exactly reject his offer, could he?

Scotland inhaled slowly and he responded, "America, are you really sure? The Otherworld is a very confusing and dangerous place to go to… the inhabitants there don't exactly like our kind."

"More reason to come with you guys so that we're more numerous to protect England if something bad happens," America quipped eagerly.

There was a brief pause before Scotland sighed, "America, I don't think you get it. It could be dangerous for you too. These creatures could even have the ability to kill you if they have the opportunity."

"Then how come you're bringing England into a bad place like that?" America demanded.

"Because all other options have failed and Lugh clearly knows that we are looking for him and still, he refuses to appear. Ireland and I are just hoping that it will spark Lugh's interest if we bring England along with us," Scotland explained, adding as an after-thought, "We're not doing this easily America, if there was another choice, we wouldn't be submitting England to such danger. But we need to know what the dark voice is before it destroys England."

"… Did the dark voice hurt England again?" America asked lowly, frowning darkly.

Scotland made a small noise at the back of his throat and he replied, "I don't know what happened exactly, I'm not even sure the dark voice did anything directly but what I do know for certain is that its presence is hurting England and it has to go. So it is in England's best interests to find Lugh so that he can at least help us narrow down the list of suspects. Then we can figure out what the dark voice is and work out a plan to get it out of England. Which is why I don't think you can come with us, you lack the experience of dealing with a backwards place like the Otherworld."

"You and Ireland have the experience, sure. But I have the raw power and that can come in handy too," America pointed out, smiling widely. He wasn't too pleased that Scotland had sounded so vague. What had happened to England? Whatever had happened, the dark voice definitely was to blame. It was time for it to leave England's mind.

"I'm not too sure it would be that helpful, seeing as they can probably attack you from the inside if they want to. I'm not sure your power would be that helpful," Scotland countered shrewdly, America could hear a hint of amusement behind the Scot's voice.

"That doesn't really matter, whether you like it or not, I'm still going to come and help you guys out tomorrow," America said firmly, unwilling to be convinced to not come. He wasn't going to take no for an answer. England was Scotland's brother, but America was just as attached to the smaller nation and genuinely wanted to protect him. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he didn't come along with England and his brothers. Who knows, maybe his strength would come in handy.

"Doesn't look like I have much chance to talk you out of this…," Scotland exhaled loudly, but then he added sternly, "Alright, but you have to absolutely listen to what Ireland and I say. We tell you not to do this, don't do it. We tell you not to eat that, you don't eat it. And if someone tries to lead you away and tells you that they can help you, DO NOT follow them. You can only come along if you agree to listen to our orders. It is not a question of formality, you could actually die if you misstep."

"Don't worry, I'll listen to what you say. I'll do anything to keep England safe," America replied determinedly, his blue eyes narrowing. If this was for England's sake, America was happy to do anything to help him. He had no problem going to a dangerous place he hadn't heard of until recently. He had no problems listening to Ireland and Scotland and let them lead the way for once. They were going to get rid of the dark voice once and for all and cure England of it.

"Hopefully, neither Ireland nor I want to worry about someone else being led astray and possibly even lost," Scotland warned. He then yawned loudly and told America, "Alright, so I'll see you tomorrow at dusk. Now, I'm just going to get a few more hours of sleep so that I can ready for tomorrow."

"Hold on, where are we going?" America questioned swiftly, suddenly realizing that he hadn't been told of the location. Where was the Otherworld exactly?

Scotland replied sleepily, "It'll be easier if you go to my house first to meet up with England and I. We're going to the Hill of Tara but I'm not certain you'd be able to find us. GPS will not really help you, technology tends to fail us badly at that location. When going to the Otherworld, you're leaving technology and everything else behind. You can only depend on your own instinct. Assuming we don't meet a creature that can screw that up as well."

With that said, Scotland hung up. America stared at his phone silently for a while, thinking over what Scotland had said. Well, Scotland didn't really speak positively about the Otherworld. It didn't really matter, America wasn't afraid of the Otherworld and its inhabitants. In fact, he was sure they weren't that bad. And he was America after all!

What harm could they do to him and the other nations anyway?

* * *

It was about 11:00 am on America's side and he was lounging on his couch, watching television without really paying attention to what he was watching. His thoughts were too occupied with meeting England again and going with him to the Otherworld, to find a solution to England's ego. Suddenly, he started thinking about when he should be going over to Scotland's place. Scotland was five hours later than America and he also had to think that dusk was coming earlier since winter was coming. So, it was still November so dusk would be coming around 5:00 pm. That meant that America had one hour left till dusk came. More than enough time to nation-hop and arrive at Scotland's house.

But hold on… maybe Scotland was going to leave with the others earlier? They were going to Ireland's place, after all. Maybe America should already go to Scotland's home to meet up with the others. He could then talk with England a bit. America hoped that things weren't going too badly for him. At least he hoped that that bastardly dark voice had quietened down a bit.

Alright, America's mind was made up. He was going to join the England and his brothers now, so that at least he would be on time and they wouldn't leave without him. America stood up and grabbed his keys from the table beside the couch, going into the kitchen to grab his usual leather jacket from his chair.

He halted for a moment, wondering what weather was it going to be over there. Whether it was in Ireland or in Scotland, the weather was usually rainy. His leather jacket was going to keep him warm only so long, he could be completely drenched to the skin and get a cold. And he certainly didn't need a cold, it could be bad for his economy.

America quickly dropped his leather jacket back on the chair and went out of the kitchen into the closet. He came out with a blue raincoat, proud of himself that he had managed to remember that before going to the rainy British Isles. Now he was ready to go.

Swiftly making his way to the door, America opened it and closed it behind him quickly, locking the door. Sticking his keys into his pocket, America walked down the driveway with an image of Scotland's house in his mind.

During the next few seconds, America felt the earth disappear beneath his feet briefly before he landed heavily on new ground. He saw the familiar surroundings morph into more Scottish surroundings. And America was not surprised to see a grey gloomy sky.

In front of him lay Scotland's house, just a few paces away. America at first hesitated, suddenly thinking of when he had last seen England. England had kissed him on the cheek back then. Would things be awkward between them now? England had run off so somewhere he had been too shy to stay around and see America's reaction. Not that America reacted that much, he had been too shocked to do anything.

But nothing had become awkward when America had out of the blue kissed England on the forehead a few months back. Maybe nothing had changed between them? But a kiss on the forehead and a kiss on the cheek were still different things… were they? Did England know the difference? He would have struggled with kissing America on the forehead so he just went for what he could access?

No matter how much America thought about it, a dozen new questions would pop up and America would just get more confused. Perhaps he should stop over-thinking and just act natural. He'll see what will happen. It's not like England was going to act that differently.

As America was about to start walking towards the house, he heard someone call out, "G'day America! What are you doing on this side of the "pond"?" America turned around and saw Australia approach him, having just arrived.

America greeted, "Hey Australia! I should be asking you the same question since you live on the other side of the world, but I already know why you're here."

"Really? How come?" Australia questioned, raising a thick eyebrow. He reached America and came to a halt, waiting for the North American nation to answer his question.

"Canada told me. You want to go to the Otherworld with Scotland as well, right?" America replied, smiling knowingly as Australia blinked in surprise.

The Australian nation then grinned as he answered, "Yes, you got me there. But then, are you also here for that too? You do know that Ireland and Scotland will try to convince you that it is too dangerous to come with them."

"Yes, but I am coming with them whether they like it or not. I'm very strong and I can protect England," America reasoned, rolling his eyes as he briefly looked behind him at the door of Scotland's house.

Australia looked at America oddly, asking, "But are you sure that will be enough? I'm also coming to make sure that England will not be hurt but I have experience with the various Dreamings of my land and Dreamtime. I think I can understand the spiritual aspect of the Otherworld, though I do wonder what Ireland means by the dangers there."

"Well I don't have anything like that but I know that if anything threatens England, I'll be ready to kick its ass all the way into another dimension. I'm not afraid of the Otherworld, I'll take what it has to offer," America claimed confidently. Australia looked a bit startled by America's dedication, it was as if he had assumed that America would be scared of the Otherworld. That reaction sort of annoyed America, the Otherworld couldn't be that bad.

"Are you two going to stand out there all the time or are you actually going to knock on the door?" A third voice asked, sounding very amused. Both nations turned around to look at the front door, and were surprised to find that Scotland had managed to open the door without either of them noticing.

Scotland was leaning against the doorframe, looking at the two nations with an amused grin. The Scot then pushed himself away from the door and stepped back, saying, "Come in then, since you two are already here. You're a bit early but that's good too, it means we can get an early start. Can you go to the kitchen?"

America and Australia stepped into the house, Scotland closing the door behind them. All three nations made their way towards the kitchen. When they entered, America saw that England, Ireland and Northern Ireland were already there, all of them sitting at the kitchen table.

"Hello everyone!" America greeted, smiling widely as he spotted England. England and Northern Ireland nodded in response, England giving the American a small smile. America's heart warmed at the smile, he was happy to see England again.

Ireland looked up from his cup of tea, his expression becoming slightly exasperated when he saw America and Australia. He questioned heavily, "So Scotland was not joking when he said you two were insisting on coming along? You two know that going to the Otherworld will not be a harmless journey."

"We know and we're still coming," America replied, crossing his arms as he looked critically at the Irish nation.

"Then don't blame us if something happens to you two," Ireland sighed, proceeding to empty his cup. He placed the empty cup on the table and he stood up, facing Australia and America. He looked at the two nations sternly and said, "To make things clear, you are to listen to what I and Alba say at all times. No fooling around and especially no assuming that you can manage something on your own without telling us about it. When we go to Tara, do not accept anything from the inhabitants of the Otherworld. Not food, not water, nothing. And if they ask you to follow them, don't follow. Is that clear?"

"Yes, yes, Scotland told us that already," America pointed out, feeling a bit frustrated that they were being talked to as if they were children. He understood that the Otherworld wasn't a safe place. How many times were the Celtic nations going to repeat that?

"Don't worry Ireland, we'll be careful and we'll listen. You don't have to become so paranoid over this, we're not that reckless," Australia added, chuckling a bit. But America could also see from Australia's eyes that he too was a bit fed up with the warnings.

"It never hurts to repeat these things," Scotland said seriously, looking closely at America and Australia.

"But the creatures can't hurt America or Australia, can they?" England questioned nervously, looking at Scotland and Ireland for answers.

"Of course they can, but we've warned them more than a couple of times that things could get dangerous. But they continue insisting that they want to come along so they'll come. There's nothing else I can do to keep them from coming. I'd rather have them come along with me knowing rather than have them follow us without our knowledge and putting themselves in danger," Ireland explained with a sigh.

"Hey, how come you're already assuming that we'll sneak after you guys if you don't let us come with you?" America protested, surprised that Ireland had thought about it. Actually, that wouldn't have been too far off the mark. America had to admit that he would have probably done that if Ireland and Scotland had refused to take him along.

"Isn't that a bit of a hasty assumption?" Australia added, cocking his head to one side as he regarded the two Celtic nations in confusion.

"We've known you two since you were just wee lads," Scotland answered, smiling at Australia and America knowingly, "So we'd actually be more surprised if you didn't do that."

"Eh, fair enough," Australia laughed lightly at that.

England didn't say anything but America could see that what Ireland had said perturbed the little island nation. The American tried catching England's attention and once England looked up, America grinned encouragingly at him. England looked surprised at first but then he readily returned it with a smile.

"So, is everyone ready to go?" Ireland asked, looking at every nation present in the kitchen.

America nodded as he exclaimed, "I'm always ready!"

"Count me in," Australia declared determinedly.

"I suppose so," Northern Ireland mumbled uncertainly, stubbornly looking at the ground when Ireland turned to stare at him quizzically.

"I'm ready," England replied simply, his expression serious and resolute.

"So let's go," Scotland stated eagerly, turning to walk out of the kitchen with the rest of the nations following close behind. America fell into step with England. England was looking a bit worried and when he noticed that he was being watched yet again, he looked up at America. America cocked his head to one side, wanting to non-verbally ask "Are you okay"?

England bit his lower lip a bit, looking down at the ground. He half-shook his head and half-shrugged. His message was clear to America: He wasn't sure.

* * *

"So this is Tara? Looks a bit… empty," America commented casually when he saw the Hill of Tara for the first time. It was getting darker but the sun had not fully disappeared yet from the horizon. To be honest, America had sort of expected Tara to be… well, he hadn't expected something specifically but he would have thought that there would be… ruins? Well something to show that something used to be there. America had heard that Tara was supposed to be Ireland's old capital, after all.

"It's not even certain that it was continually inhabited. And if everything was built out of wood, of course nothing would remain. If there ever was anything to begin with," Ireland explained, looking around Tara.

"What's that stone over there?" England questioned, pointing at a tall stone standing some distance away from the group of nations.

"That's Lia Fáil," Ireland answered.

"Come again?" America asked, confused by the name.

"It means the Stone of Destiny, it's a stone that supposedly was used in the coronation of a new king of Ireland in the old times. It was even said to roar only when a true king stepped on it when he became king over these lands," Ireland clarified, glancing at America with amusement.

Scotland added with a chuckle, "Some people still maintain that this stone is actually the Stone of Scone and that it was brought to my place in the fifth century. And then the English took the stone from us and still have it. So this could be in actual fact not the real stone… if those sources are to be believed of course."

"They're not going to give up on those beliefs anytime soon, even though none of my people have ever confirmed that it was moved to your place," Ireland sighed a bit before he laughed, "But it is a bit strange, my people claim that Lia Fáil came from northern Germany while your people claim that the Stone of Scone came from Spain, was brought to my place and then it came to your place. Some conflicting origins, don't you think?"

"What else do we expect from legends and myths? They'll always be a confusing ball of contradictions, inconsistencies and misinterpretations." Australia pointed out.

Northern Ireland had already stepped away from the group and was pretending to look around his surroundings. He then lightly scrapped the ground with the tip of his shoe and he looked at the group of nations, asking fairly impatiently, "So, are we going to spread out and start looking for a portal to the Otherworld?" America wasn't really sure but he had the impression that Northern Ireland looked a bit restless. Over what the American was not sure about.

Scotland nodded and he turned to look at the other nations, explaining to America and Australia, "Now, we're going to start searching for a passage into the Otherworld. It's not as easy as you'd think, the Otherworld first must want to let us in. Which sometimes takes a long time. So we'll spread out but not to the extent that we can't hear the others anymore. Is that understood?"

America and Australia both nodded, wanting to prove to the sceptical Celtic nations that they could useful in this search. America definitely wanted to show to Ireland and Scotland that he was up to the task. With everything made clear, all the nations started spreading out to search for a way into the Otherworld.

For a moment, America stopped and looked for England, thinking about asking if they could go searching together. England had looked quite worried and America wanted to reassure the small Brit. Also they were in a place where these Otherworld creatures could come and go, if America had understood that right. It was no place for England to be wandering on his own.

But he found that England was already with Northern Ireland. Both nations were walking away in a diagonal direction from America, talking about something that seemed quite serious. Northern Ireland briefly looked up and saw America staring at them. The Irish nation smiled at America apologetically and gave a small shake of his head. England didn't notice anything, he seemed completely focussed on what he was telling the teen avatar.

The American was admittedly a bit confused by the message Northern Ireland had attempted to convey. Why couldn't America talk to England? Had something happened and now England didn't want to talk to America? Or was he talking to Northern Ireland about something he only wanted the younger UK nation to hear?

Making up his mind of catching up with them later (giving them enough time to talk about whatever they wanted to keep private), America continued on his way. He stopped briefly when he realized he had no idea what to look for. He called out, "Hey Ireland, what exactly are we supposed to find? Like an actual portal? A gate? What?"

After a second or two, Ireland replied, "It changes every time so I don't know. Something that seems out of place, or a strange object. Just call out if you find anything fitting that description."

Well that was not going to be easy. America sighed heavily as he walked on, wondering about how he was supposed to find something that stood out? Maybe it was a small thing… but then America might miss it? America muttered to himself, "Come on, you can do this. You'll find the strange thing for sure."

America searched for about 15 minutes before he began to wonder if he was going to find the thing at all. Night was falling, the sun was gone and the luminosity was getting weaker and weaker. They certainly weren't going to find this passage to the Otherworld today, were they?

Just as America began to feel thoroughly discouraged, he felt someone nudge his waist. America blinked with surprise and he looked down, surprised to find England. He smiled at the small nation and he said happily, "Hey England, I was thinking of catching up with you later. But it seems that you beat me to it."

"Well I wanted to be with you too," England declared brightly, smiling back at the American. He started walking and America fell into step with him.

This pleased America to hear and he went on to ask, "So are things really going that badly for you?"

"No, why do you ask?" England replied, looking at America in confusion. That reaction confused America, hadn't England looked worried not a long while ago?

"Well, you seemed quite worried when I saw you…," America trailed off, trying to understand why England's strange reaction.

"Ah no, I'm just thinking about things and I suppose I'm overthinking them. Don't worry too much about me America," England explained lightly, smiling uncertainly at America. England stopped walking for a few seconds and then he asked, pointing further down the hill, "Could we look for the passage over there?"

America accepted England's explanation for the moment and simply agreed, "Yeah, we can try there. But you heard what Scotland said, not too far away from each other."

"But we're together so that's alright," England answered, laughing as he continued on his way. America had a nagging feeling behind his mind, as if a part of him was telling him that something was wrong. He pushed that nagging feeling back when England reached out and grasped America's hand.

When they had reached the bottom of the hill, America jumped when he heard Northern Ireland bellow, "Ireland, accept that there is no passage today! We've looked everywhere and not one of us has found it. The Otherworld doesn't want us to come in today."

"Don't be daft North, the Otherworld has never consciously forbidden us from entering. We've been delayed before but never forbidden," Ireland yelled back from over the other side of the hill, sounding slightly miffed.

America turned around and saw Northern Ireland just a bit further up the hill, looking quite annoyed. America did a double-take when he saw England beside Northern Ireland. But… but England was right beside him! He was holding America's hand!

The America helplessly sputtered loudly, "Who the hell is beside North?!"

England looked in the direction America was staring and he frowned. He replied, "I have no idea, but he certainly looks like me."

Northern Ireland and England apparently heard America's question because both of them looked downhill at him. Both their expressions grew astonished when they saw England beside America. Northern Ireland quickly checked that England was still near him, his face only growing more confused as he confirmed that England was beside him and was beside America at the same time.

Australia appeared over the hill and he too took in the strange scene before him. He looked of his shoulder and he shouted, "Ireland, Scotland! Slight problem on this side of the hill, we have two Englands here."

"Seriously?" Scotland called out as he appeared at the top of the hill. Ireland appeared next to the Scot and all three nations made their way downhill. Northern Ireland and England also walked towards America. America could only look at the other nations and down at England, who seemed to have grown fearful. This must be the real England, the one beside Northern Ireland was the false one!

Once all nations had gathered, a staring contest began between the two Englands, both staring at each other critically. The England beside America still looked rather wary while the other honestly looked more surprised than anything else.

"Which one is the real one?" Australia asked, looking disturbed by the fact that he couldn't tell the two apart. They looked exactly the same, America could even bet that they were identical down to the hair.

Ireland glared at Northern Ireland, about to ask something accusingly before North swiftly cut him off, "No Ireland, I never for a second looked away. England was beside me the whole time, the one with America must be the wrong one."

The England next to America quickly protested, "No, North's mind must be muddled. I told you that I was going to go after America, the wrong England confused your thoughts and made you believe that I never left!"

"I know that I'm the real England," the England beside Northern Ireland claimed, looking almost angrily at the other England.

England almost looked panicked as he looked up at America, begging, "America, I'm the real one! The other one wants to convince you that it's him but I'm convinced that I am the real one. Don't believe the lies of the other!"

However Ireland, Scotland and Australia already seemed to have made up their minds. They were glaring furiously at the England beside America, shifting so that they faced that England while they stood beside the England that was next to Northern Ireland.

The England beside America whimpered fearfully, looking at America pleadingly. America stared at the other nations, pointing out, "You guys are not very fair, either of them could be the real England. We have no proof that the one beside me is the wrong one."

Scotland considered the thought and unwillingly admitted, "True enough, we don't have anything on either of them."

Australia brightened up as he got an idea. He stared at the England beside America and he asked, "England, you do know that America is your elder brother, right?"

England looked from Australia to America, looking confused. He nodded his head as he replied with a laugh, "Of course I know that."

Ireland exclaimed, "Bang. You're the false one."

The England look-alike stepped away from America and cursed, "Ah shoot, I was so close. You avatars are just too complicated, you hardly make sense."

America couldn't believe that the England beside him was the fake. He acted just like England! America would have never noticed the difference. He demanded angrily, "What are you?"

"Something," the clone replied.

"No, who are you?" America reiterated, still feeling rather angry with the clone.

"Anyone?" The clone answered cheekily, glancing at America in amusement.

England took a step towards the clone and he questioned quietly, "What is your name?"

The clone grinned widely as he leaned forward, lightly bumping his forehead against England's playfully. He responded, "Nothing." England took a step back in surprise, confused by the clone's answer.

Australia asked slowly, "Where are you from?"

The fake England replied brightly, "I'm from the lands of strange things, from lands of familiar things and from lands where everyone knows where knowledge and ignorance were born."

"He's from the Otherworld alright," Ireland declared, sighing rather heavily as he looked at the clone disapprovingly.

"But why don't you have a name?" England questioned, still looking quite confused.

The other shrugged and explained, "A long time ago, men called me "youth". I'm not sure if that's a name, but it's as close as I came to having a word that refers to me. We don't really need names on the other side, they're rather useless there. Names is a very human thing, humans are the only ones who are so scared of knowledge that they decided to give names to everything around them."

"Where were you leading America to?" Northern Ireland demanded suspiciously, appearing to have mostly recovered from his surprise.

"To the Otherworld of course! He wanted to go there," the youth exclaimed happily, looking innocently at the Irish avatar. Northern Ireland frowned, clearly not convinced by the youth's words.

"Where of course America would have been killed," Scotland added darkly, glaring furiously at the youth.

The youth blinked slowly before he countered neutrally, "If you want to interpret it that way. I merely wanted to bring America to the land of promise, to the plain of delights and to the land of eternal youth. The Otherworld is a beautiful place that knows no war, no strife. There is no death, no aging, no sin and no hunger. You can eat everlasting feasts without ever feeling too full."

"That still doesn't change the fact that you wanted to kill me!" America exclaimed in horror, taking a step back from the youth. He couldn't believe he had been fooled so easily. The youth had been effortlessly leading America to his doom! His legs almost grew weak as this realization crashed into the American.

"You make death sound like it is a horrible thing," the youth sighed, looked at America sadly, "It really isn't. Death is beautiful. Death is a quick thing and it relieves you of everything."

"Death can be slow too," Australia pointed out, crossing his arms as he regarded the youth with barely-concealed disdain.

"Dying can be slow," the youth promptly corrected, "But death in itself is swift and painless. It's even quicker than falling asleep. The blink of an eye is all that death needs. You all regard me with disgust and rage because you think I wanted to hurt your friend. But I wasn't. I wanted to take him and all of you to a world free of all pain. To a world free of aging and dying. In the Otherworld, you can exist forever, eternally young and beautiful."

"You have no right to lure us into the Otherworld like that. I know you would have benefitted from all our life force as well the moment we died upon crossing the threshold. None of us want to stop living," Ireland admonished sharply, the other nations nodding in agreement to his words.

The youth sighed again, his appearance beginning to change. His blonde hair turned into dark brown and his features changed to a gaunter structure. The youth was still a boy, but a frail looking one and looked years younger than England. Possibly just a 5-year old. The youth spoke, "You may label me as the villain, but I am not mean-spirited. I have good intentions, it is you who choose to view them as malicious. It is you who choose to embrace this cold and dark world. It is you who accepts pain and grief."

"Because it worth enduring them to get to the happiness," America interjected, staring challengingly at the youth. "Not that you would know anything about it."

"Actually, I do," the youth responded, his thoughtful brown eyes watching America. "I used to live in this world, thousands of years ago. I died, rather horribly." The youth's appearance had changed so that he was no longer wearing England's clothes, he was now wearing a ragged tunic. He grasped his tunic, pulling it upwards to show his stomach to the nations. On his stomach was a large scar, running from his lower abdomen to the beginning of his rib cage. He explained numbly, "Shamans came for me one day. They held me down as they opened me, removing my entrails to predict the future. I don't miss this world. I don't miss the one I would have called mother. I like being in the Otherworld."

The youth looked up at America and the other nations, tears trickling down his cheeks. He closed his eyes tightly and suddenly he faded away into the air. The nations looked around in confusion, surprised by the abrupt disappearance. England bit his lower lip uncertainly as he admitted, "I don't know, but I actually feel a bit sorry for him."

"You can feel sorry Sasana, but it doesn't change the fact that he intended on luring us to our deaths," Ireland answered, looking at England carefully.

America shook his head, a part of him still chastising himself for not having noticed that a fake England had tried leading him to the Otherworld. He really should have noticed the inconsistencies, such as the fact that the fake hadn't known that the real England had been worried about something. It seemed that the youth knew just the basic information on the nations but couldn't go any deeper without blundering.

Ireland turned to America as he explained, "Meiricéa, this is just a sample of the trickery the creatures of the Otherworld are capable of. If you have a nagging feeling, ask them a question only the real person would be able to answer."

"You never told me that they would be able to shapeshift," America accused, feeling annoyed that he hadn't been given any forewarning.

"What did you expect America? They're powerful faes, shapeshifting is about as normal as breathing to them," Northern Ireland explained, looking at America sharply.

"Ireland, do you think that the youth might have been the passage to the Otherworld?" Scotland suddenly asked.

Ireland frowned as he replied, "It isn't usually a person, why do you ask?"

"Our surrounding is changing," Scotland answered simply, looking a bit nervous.

The other nations looked around and they became aware that the surroundings were shifting. The landscape morphed and changed until they were in front of a monument that looked eerily familiar to America.

"Hold on, isn't that Newgrange?" Australia asked, sounding thoroughly confused.

"What's going on?" America demanded uneasily as he looked around. It looked like they had nation-hopped without even being aware of it. Just after a few seconds, the surroundings started changing again. This time the landscape morphed into a hilly landscape again, but America couldn't recognize the place.

"You'll recognize this place North," Ireland commented quietly, narrowing his eyes as he looked around at the new surroundings.

"Isn't that Navan Fort?" Northern Ireland questioned slowly, seemingly surprised. America remembered that name distantly, it had to be a place of significance too.

"The ancient capital of Ulster?" Scotland questioned, looking just as confused as Northern Ireland.

"Why are we nation-hopping?" England asked anxiously as the surroundings started changing again.

Ireland shook his head and answered, "I think someone from the Otherworld is trying to come into this world but they're having trouble doing so."

"Are you sure that's the reason?" America asked, starting to feel very concerned. He wanted the landscape to stop changing, he hated feeling disoriented like this. He wasn't even sure if they were still in Ireland, though it was possible that they still were.

"I don't have a better explanation!" Ireland exclaimed as he stared at the American. He then turned his attention to Scotland and called out, "Alba, go to the other side of the group." Scotland nodded and walked to the other side, America, England, Australia and Northern Ireland quickly moving inwards. Ireland stood facing them while Scotland turned to face them as well.

Ireland then ordered, "Alba, stamp your right foot on the ground when I do the same and let the energy go through you." The Irish nation raised his foot and both Celtic nations stamped their foot on the ground simultaneously, Ireland yelling, "Tar ar ais go dtí Cnoc na Teamhrach!"

America felt a surge of energy beneath them and he saw Ireland and Scotland steeling themselves as the energy passed through them. Suddenly the landscape stopped changing and America saw that they were at the Hill of Tara once again.

Letting out a sigh of relief, America asked Ireland, "What did you yell just then?"

"I just said "come back to the Hill of Tara". I didn't know what else to do, night has fallen now and the line between this world and the Otherworld is very thin. I still don't really know why the landscape was changing," Ireland explained, frowning a bit.

Australia questioned, "Who's that person over there?"

"Where?" Ireland quickly asked, turning to look at the Australian nation. Australia pointed at the top of hill of Tara and every nations' eyes followed to look at who Australia was pointing at. At the top of the hill there was a grey-haired man who was looking down at the nations curiously. America noticed that he was dressed a bit like what one would expect from a Celtic warrior: a large purple cloak, a golden brooch and long wild hair.

The stranger raised his hand and America saw that he was holding an odd object. It looked like… a silver branch with 3 golden apples? America blinked a few times, convinced that he was just imaging things now. He looked again but sure enough, the grey-haired warrior was holding that in his right hand! Just then soft melodic music reached his ears.

Ireland cursed, "Ah shite, it's that guy. Everyone quick, move closer together." Instantly all nations huddled together, the bigger nations managing to herd England and Northern Ireland into the middle. England didn't really say anything as he stood next to America, looking at the strange warrior worriedly. However North looked a bit miffed by the reaction but decided not to raise any complaints.

"What does he want?" England asked warily, cocking his head to one side as the music started becoming louder. It was really beautiful music, it sounded very sweet to America's ears. It was so gentle that America almost thought that it would be capable of lulling anyone to sleep.

"He doesn't really want anything, but I recognize him from one of Ireland's stories," Scotland clarified, looking at the warrior briefly before turning to Ireland, asking, "He's the one who is able to make anyone fall asleep with that branch, isn't he?" Ireland merely nodded, not breaking eye-contact with the warrior. The Celtic warrior simply smiled toothily, continuing to keep the branch raised.

America laughed incredulously, "You mean he's trying to make us fall asleep? He's going to have to try harder than that to pull that off."

"I agree," Australia snickered before he bit back a wide yawn. The Australian nation looked quite shocked at the sudden bout of tiredness. He yawned again and this time Scotland couldn't help but yawn as well. The music became stronger and stronger, causing the nations to feel more tired by the minute.

The first to collapse was England, having not being able to resist the sleep for long. Rubbing his eyes sleepily, America turned to look at England anxiously. The second to collapse was then Northern Ireland. America shook his head, trying to stay awake.

"Don't fight it, you won't be able to stay awake much longer…" Ireland muttered tiredly, trailing off as he too sunk to his knees and fell to the ground, sound asleep. Australia soon followed unwillingly and not even two seconds passed before Scotland fell to the ground too.

In the end, only America was left standing, though he was barely managing to stay upright. The music was getting louder and the sweet melody continued lulling America's mind, beckoning him to follow the others. His eye lids grew heavy and America finally fell down, unable to resist sleep anymore.

He distantly heard the old warrior croon softly, "**The branch makes sweet music, strong and gentle enough to lull all wounded men, women in labour and old folk enfeebled by sickness to sleep. One of you fought valiantly against it but even the greatest beasts are conquered by the smallest things. Sleep well my friends, may your minds rest and may you find what you seek…"**

* * *

America was next aware of soft whispering. It was much too close for comfort and the sound was causing the American to have shivers go down his spine. He cracked one eye open and at the very edge of his periphery, America saw indistinct shadows watching him curiously.

The North American nation groaned loudly as he slowly sat up. Suddenly the whispering stopped and when America looked around, he couldn't see the shadows anymore. Were they there to being with anyway? America looked around some more and saw the other nations sleeping beside him, England being the closest.

At least no one had been hurt… America tentatively reached forward and laid his hand on England's face. England's peaceful expression changed and the small island nation let out a wide yawn. Somehow the sleeping spell on the other nations let up at the same time and they all began to wake up.

England opened his eyes slowly, looking at America before he sleepily mumbled, "What happened?"

"I don't know, but we're in a new place again," America replied, looking around at the surroundings more closely this time. Yes, they were no longer at the Hill of Tara. America couldn't recognize this place at all.

Ireland sat up, as did the rest, and after surveying the surroundings, he yawned, "I think we're in the Otherworld. That grey-haired warrior gave us the way into this world."

"Are you sure?" Australia questioned uncertainly, looking around. He remarked, "It doesn't look very much different from our world… how are you sure that we're in the Otherworld?"

Scotland answered, "There are small changes, you need to have a sharp eye to be able to spot them. But we can also feel it. Just take a moment to listen and you'll feel it."

Both America and Australia looked at each other in confusion but they fell silent, listening closely to whatever the Scot was expecting them to feel. After a few seconds, America did feel distantly a soft kind of pulsing, though he wasn't too sure about it. He could feel though another kind of energy flowing beneath them, the lands definitely didn't feel familiar to America. Looking at Australia, America could see that the other was feeling roughly the same thing.

"But why did this old man put us to sleep?" Northern Ireland demanded as he stood up, sounding like he was a bit irritated by it.

"North, when you're dealing with the Otherworld, you're abandoning all concept of logic and rationality. Nothing ever makes sense in this world," Scotland explained, standing up as well. The others followed suit, America stretching his arms in front of him.

England stood him, wobbling a little as he seemed a bit dizzy. He shook his head and then he looked around, feeling like he was being watched.

America looked down and asked, "What is it England?"

"I think someone is watching us…," England replied uneasily, looking about him sharply.

Ireland shrugged as he stated, "You'll have to get used to that, that feeling literally never leaves you. A lot of the creatures in this world probably know that we're here now. Most choose to ignore us but a number of them will perhaps approach us. We should try our best not to get split up, some of the aos sidhe will try to single out the weakest of us."

"Well none of us are that weak," America laughed before he felt someone pinch his arm. He let out a small yelp and he looked down, for a split-second believing that England had actually pinched him. What in the world had America done to deserve that?!

However it hadn't been England. There was a small person standing beside the island nation, appearing to be some sort of old man who was strangely enough the size of a child. He was wearing a red coat and a cocked hat. The dwarf was looking up at America with an amused smirk, noting in a cheeky voice, "So you avatars do react as quickly as humans… I had supposed the opposite."

"Who the hell are you?! Why did you pinch me?!" America exclaimed, looking angrily at the dwarf.

The dwarf snickered as he replied, "Didn't you learn last time? Names are not needed in the Otherworld. And I just felt like it, you seemed the type to give an amusing reaction." He then turned around and trotted away, whistling a happy tune. The dwarf disappeared into a puff of smoke.

After a few seconds, Australia commented, "Well, that was a little random…"

Ireland shook his head and he chuckled, "No, that was the proof that we are in the Otherworld."

"What proof?" America growled in annoyance, glaring at Ireland. "All I saw was a dumb dwarf who pinched me for no reason at all!"

Scotland corrected with a small smile, "That's actually not just a dwarf America. That was a leprechaun."

A minute passed before the information sunk in, and then America shook his head and declared, "That was not a leprechaun. Leprechauns are smaller, wear green, have big hats and have red hair. That was just an old dwarf."

"The leprechaun you have in mind is the modern, more commercialized leprechaun. The one we just saw is a more traditional leprechaun. Those never wander outside of the Otherworld anymore, so it's certain that we're in the Otherworld," Ireland explained patiently, still seeming quite amused by America's reaction. He turned around and started walking, the other nations starting to follow him.

America caught up with Ireland and he asked, "Hold on, so I just saw a leprechaun. A… a mythical creature…," America looked at the ground, mumbling, "Oh great, I'm going crazy now. I'm seeing things like you guys now."

"Hey now, I also saw the leprechaun. That doesn't mean we're going mad," Australia protested, frowning slightly at America.

Scotland shook his head, "America, you're one of those nations who lost a long time ago the Sight, meaning that you aren't able to see mythical creatures as readily as those who have it. However, we are all born with the Old Sight and we never lose it. That means any mythical creature that is as old as 2,000 years can be seen by us. But by that age, most mythical creatures avoid wandering around."

"How in the world are mythical creatures supposed to survive as long as 2,000 years?" England questioned, looking a bit puzzled. America silently agreed with England, how in the world was a mythical creature supposed to survive this long?

"Well, very similar to how we survive as long as our identities survive, mythical creatures survive as long as humans keep them in their imaginations. Once they are forgotten, they die," Scotland replied, adding as an afterthought, "A bean nighe once told me all this, she explained to me why it was so important for them to remain in the imagination of people. Even if there is only a handful of people who believe in a particular creature, it will continue existing. One only dies when it has been completely forgotten."

"I never knew that…," America stated, surprised that there was a difference between Sight and Old Sight. He had very often teased England about having "imaginary friends" but he had never been completely convinced whether mythical creatures existed or not. The child-like part of him had always hoped that it was just him who couldn't see them, and not the fact that they didn't exist at all.

The group of nations continued on their way for a while, all of them silent as they were either deep in thought or were on full alert. While Ireland and Scotland led the way, Northern Ireland and Australia made up the back. America and England were walking in the middle, America keeping a close eye on England.

To be perfectly honest, America hadn't seen a lot of what made the Otherworld that horrible. Sure the inhabitants were beyond strange, or in the case of that odd leprechaun, just plain rude, but America hadn't really seen anything disturbing. If anything, the Otherworld looked just like their own world. Maybe the lands here were more fertile and greener, but it didn't really stand out to the American.

Maybe it was due to him expecting the Otherworld to be like the Underworld he had seen featured in the media so much, the dark and twisted world where you saw skeletons walking around and stuff like it. The Otherworld so far appeared very tame. America hoped he wasn't jinxing himself by thinking of the Otherworld as tame and then suddenly things would be happening just to prove him wrong.

That would just be horrible.

They had walked in silence for roughly 10 minutes, all six nations on the lookout for someone approaching them. America became aware that Ireland had failed to describe how this Lugh god looked like. What, was Lugh that odd that he would stand out? America was a bit nervous though, meeting a mythical creature was one thing but a pagan god? America quickly chastised himself, he had promised that he wouldn't get scared. Things had gone alright so far and things would continue to go fine. They weren't going to bump into anyone unpleasant at all-

"**Halt, who goes there?!"** A female voice shouted, sounding very angry and hostile.

…And America spoke too soon.

All six nations stopped as a woman strode towards them, staring at them suspiciously. The woman looked very beautiful with long flowing red hair but her features were marred by anger and distrust. She was glaring at them furiously, coming to an abrupt stop in front of them.

"**What are you doing here earthly avatars? Isn't your own world good enough? This is not your world and you can't claim it as yours,"** the woman growled, glowering at the nations. She actually did seem quite threatening, she really wasn't happy with the presence of the nations. Did she actually think they wanted to live in the Otherworld?

Ireland looked behind him at the other nations, quietly warning them not to say a word by narrowing his eyes. He then turned to the woman and he explained cautiously, "Macha, forgive me for the intrusion. Our intent is not malicious, we have not come to stay. We are seeking Lugh, we need his knowledge and experience."

The Otherworld woman, named Macha, blinked in surprise at the explanation. She started walking around the group, studying each and every single nation closely. Once she had gone around the whole circle, Macha sniffed, **"And how can I trust your words? You represent the people whose ancestors have driven my kind beneath the hills. You have Milesian blood within you Éire… for most of the Tuatha Dé Danaan, this is reason enough to attack and attempt to kill you."**

Ireland bent his head as he muttered, "I've already been attacked several times before. No disrespect Macha, but this grudge that the Tuatha Dé Danaan hold against me originates from the imagination of the people. I have done nothing to deserve your hatred. It didn't happen."

"**And you think our pain isn't real?!"** Macha exclaimed angrily, glaring at Ireland hatefully. **"You don't think that we wouldn't feel anything as we went from venerated gods and goddesses to mere aos side banished to the mounds?! You cannot even begin to comprehend the unimaginable pain we go through from such a transformation. We're barely alive because most of us are only remembered by learned scholars."**

America couldn't hold himself back as he blurted out, "But humans are always changing like that and some of the changes hurt us. But we are alive thanks to them." Ireland shot America a glare, shaking his head while mouthing "shut up".

With inhuman speed, Macha strode around the group and stopped right in front of the America. Frowning darkly at him, she demanded harshly, **"And who might you be?"**

"Um, I'm America?" America replied nervously, regretting that he had spoken at all. He resisted the temptation to take a step back. It could cause Macha to think that she was in control.

Macha's expression became confused as she echoed, **"Ameh-ree-ka?"**

"Yes, I'm across the Atlantic Ocean?" America explained hastily.

The Otherworld woman looked unconvinced but she decided instead to explain, **"Well Amereeka, I don't think you really understand what mythical creatures have to go through compared to avatars like you. When a human makes up a tale involving me, I get the story as recurring dreams and anything that happens to me in the tale happens to me in reality. A long time ago, Ulster bards came up with a story where I went to a widower named Crunniuc and I became his new wife. At one point, Crunniuc boasted to others that I was swifter than the king's horses and I was forced by the king to prove my husband right to save his life. While being heavily pregnant. I won the race against the horses but I gave birth to twins right after, dying in extreme pain. And as the bards spun this tale, it happened to me and I was unable to escape from the pain. Humans are cruel creatures, they love inventing dark stories."**

"But they don't do it out of spite towards you," Australia pointed out warily. Ireland looked at the Australian in mute shock before he sighed, apparently giving up on the belief that the other nations were going to stay quiet.

Scotland added, "Besides, you did take your anger out eventually by cursing Ulster. Every time another avatar put him under pressure, he would get… ehm, very sick."

Macha laughed hollowly, **"Far from sick, I cursed him to feel the pangs of childbirth and he very much deserved it." **

"Once again, Ulster didn't do anything directly to you," Ireland sighed quietly, looking at Macha uneasily. He questioned slowly, "Where can we find Lugh? We really need his help."

Macha stared at Ireland quietly, studying him closely. A grey mare appeared beside Macha, the horse nudging her with her soft nose. On top of the grey horse were young twin boys, watching the nations curiously. Macha turned her attention to the twins, her eyes greatly softening as she saw them. She walked away from the nations and mounted on the grey mare nimbly. She then looked at Ireland coldly as she replied simply, **"I think you should stop searching for Lugh."**

The mare started trotting away, leaving behind it clouds of dust. The horse and her riders soon faded away into thin air.

"Well, that wasn't very helpful," America noted, looking at the other nations worriedly. It would have helped if Macha at least gave them a clue. She had no trouble in telling them her story but when asked a simple question, she answers it as vaguely as possible.

"Did you expect a straight answer? From someone who lives in the Otherworld?" Northern Ireland questioned, finally speaking out. America hadn't actually noticed that Northern Ireland said the least from all the nations until now.

"What happened to "don't talk to her"?" Ireland asked as he turned around to face the nations, looking quite annoyed.

"Nothing bad happened to us though," Australia pointed out, smiling sheepishly at the irked Irish nation.

"Where is the fog coming from?" England suddenly asked, attracting everyone's attention to the fact that fog was coming out of nowhere all of a sudden. And it was growing thicker and spreading out at an alarming pace. It wasn't long before the fog had completely enveloped the nations, not even giving the nations enough time to start thinking about escaping the quick-moving fog.

America glanced around swiftly, feeling very uneasy about not being able to see further than a few steps. It certainly wasn't comforting that this unusual fog had come about this rapidly. Was it the result of the dust that the grey mare had left behind? But that didn't make sense! The fog couldn't be natural! And with each second, the fog grew thicker and thicker.

Soon America was not even able to see England and the other nations anymore. He shouted nervously, "What do we do Ireland?"

Ireland yelled back, "Grab the hands of the others, we'll try to make a line! Like this we can at least try to get out of the fog without anyone being separated from the group."

America reached out blindly before he felt the hand of someone's… it felt rather small. "Is that you England?" America asked swiftly.

"Yes, who's other hand am I holding?" England responded, sounding a bit relieved at hearing America's voice.

"You have mine," Scotland answered quickly. "I think I'm holding North's hand, aye?

Northern Ireland confirmed uneasily, "You're right but I don't know which other hand I'm holding…"

"That'll be mine," Australia replied, letting out a nervous laughter.

"Where's Ireland?" Scotland asked. The nations waited for a few seconds but they received no answer from the 6th nation. America looked around, starting to feel restless. Why wasn't Ireland responding?

"Ireland?" Australia shouted but only his voice echoed back to the nations. Still no hint of where Ireland had gone.

"Ireland, where are you?" Scotland called out, sounding extremely anxious. Ireland just seemed to have vanished into the fog.

"IRELAND!" America yelled loudly, starting to panic a bit. It was definitely not a good sign that one of the nations had disappeared just like that. What had happened?

After a few minutes of tense silence, they heard a distant voice answer nervously, "I'm still here."

The nations looked around swiftly, trying to locate where Ireland's voice had come from. Australia was the first to speak out again, sounding very puzzled as he asked, "Where?"

A hesitant moment passed before Ireland responded faintly, "Up."

America, Australia, Scotland, Northern Ireland and England looked up to try spotting Ireland, all of them equally wondering how in the world was Ireland up there? All of a sudden, the fog started dispersing and just a few minutes passed before the nations could begin to see what was going on.

Ireland was indeed up high in the air, much to the confusion to the other nations. It quickly became obvious that Ireland was dangling upside down, as if someone had grabbed his legs and was holding him like this. The Irish nation was looking down at the nations fearfully.

Once the fog cleared up, it became visible that Ireland was being held by a giant. A giant had actually managed to sneak up on the nations when they were completely engulfed by the fog and had apparently snatched Ireland from the group without even alerting the rest.

The giant man was incredibly intimidating as well as very handsome. America had no idea why the second adjective popped into his head. He had more important things to think about but for some reason, it really stood out to him that the Otherworld person was exceptionally attractive with his golden blonde hair, faintly glowing skin and glittering icy blue eyes. America shook his head, beginning to suspect that there was an outside influence that was messing around with his thoughts.

Ireland squirmed a bit as he tried freeing himself, but the giant grinned menacingly and seemed to tighten his grip on the nation. The Irish avatar grimaced in pain and became motionless. When the giant looked down at the other nations curiously, Ireland introduced him warily, "Fellow nations, this, is Lugh. God of Light and Harvest and master of all skills. Former High King of Tara as well."

Lugh looked at Ireland briefly with distaste, then returned to gaze at the other nations with a shadowy frown. The god then grinned darkly, his eyes flashing dangerously as he greeted, "**Welcome to the Otherworld earthly avatars. State your business**." He lifted his foot and stamped on the ground, causing the ground to shake so badly that America and the other nations wobbled and fell to the ground.

The god bent his head down towards the fallen nations, smiling haughtily at them. He chuckled, "**You have my attention now**."

* * *

**A/N:**

Lugh is not a very nice guy unfortunately. Especially not towards the nations. Let's hope things don't get out of hand. They finally have his attention and we can hope that Lugh does decide to help them. Without scaring them too badly of course. ^^;

You'll find out what exactly happened to England in the next chapter, you saw that it was extremely painful. It is connected to what the Irish hero Fionn removed from Northern Ireland's mind. I suppose you can already technically what happened more or less.

Scotland hates admitting that in his rage, he has unfortunately the tendency to hurt people he cares about. He is that type of person who loses control when he gets really angry. It's taking some time, but I'm beginning to find instances where that might have happened. One of them happened when Isle of Man refused to submit to Scottish rule and in the Battle of Ronaldsway in 1275, Scotland would have indeed hurt Isle of Man quite badly with the slaughtering of 500 Manx. The other instance happened when Irish rebels attacked the Ulster plantation (young Northern Ireland) in 1641 and killed a lot of the English and Scottish colonists. Scotland sent 10,000 soldiers in 1642 to stop the Irish rebels and many Scottish soldiers committed atrocities against the Irish out of revenge. I can also see there that Scotland would have been so furious over Ireland killing some of his people that he would have viciously lashed out and hurt Ireland quite badly. And after all that, Scotland would be eaten away by guilt because he had acted so violently. It's a character trait that I'm developing, there's still much to be researched.

Oh yeah, the memory that England had in this chapter is quite special. I actually left mistakes and inconsistencies in the memory, I wonder if you can spot them. The memory has quite unusual traits, huh? The rest of the memory might show up in another chapter, not sure in the next though. Hen Ogledd is the same character that I incorrectly identified as Strathclyde. He is another brother of Wales and Cornwall, though Hen Ogledd is believed to have died around the 9th and 10th century. Breizh is Brittany today while I think Britonia became Galicia, that Spanish region who is really close to Portugal.

Also, Brittany will occasionally drop French words to show that to a certain extent, France's government is succeeding in making the Bretons more French. The language is really shaky, there are a lot of native speakers still but most of them are elderly and the younger generations don't see the point in learning Breton. I'd say that Breton culture has also taken quite a hit.

The Prayer Book Rebellion was a strong revolt that happened in Cornwall and Devon in 1549. When King Henry VIII reformed the Church in England, all services started being held in English. In 1549, the Book of Common Prayer was introduced and the old Latin Prayer book was banned. That change really wasn't appreciated, especially among the Cornish people as many of them couldn't understand English back then. I included this event because linguists think that it was at that moment when the decline of the Cornish language really started to speed up. About 5,500 people were killed in this revolt, if I remember correctly.

Why did I choose the Ding Dong mines? Not because of the name, however amusing it may be, but I chose it because it is supposedly the oldest mines of Cornwall. Because mining is heavily associated with Cornwall, it made sense for me that he would have been born in a mine. I also described the Boskednan stone circle later as well, otherwise known as the Nine Maidens. What England sees before being found by Cornwall is the Greenburrow pumping engine house… I really couldn't find pictures of the actual Ding Dong mines. Not sure whether they can be reached. Was a bit surprised at the lack of photos.

Another interesting note on Anglesey: Sometimes in Welsh, she's called Môn Mam Cymru. That can be translated to Môn, mother of Wales. Most Hetalia fans call Albion Wales' mother while in reality there is a smaller island that claims that role. XD But to make things wonderfully complicated, I don't see Anglesey as mother of Wales, but rather an elder sister. She's younger than Albion but older than Wales. I think that when Albion died, the one who was the most upset over her death was Wales. Anglesey was the avatar Wales turned to for comfort and advice. For the longest time, he often called her Mam because he felt that she really fit well into the role of a mother. He still occasionally uses it as a nickname, but always when there aren't much people around.

I was admittedly a bit surprised by the backlash Wales got last chapter. Didn't anyone pick up the hints early in the story that Wales didn't approve of America? Try seeing things from his point of view, although I think many of you did understand his reasons. And some of you still want to shake him. XD You guys can guess that Wales is the type of guy who needs to be in control and thinks he always knows better. Don't worry, you'll see what will happen. Wales intentions aren't malicious after all.

I really apologise if I wrote something wrong about Australia's Dreamtime, it's a concept I've been trying to understand but it kind of escapes me at the same time. It's been mentioned to me a few times before but only recently have I tried to read up on the Dreamings. I got too afraid that I didn't understand them to I kept it a minimum. All I know is that they're narratives on the origins of the different Aboriginal tribes… sorry, they're very abstract for me.

Some of the mythical characters that I included come from stories of the Otherworld. I hope you enjoyed the part with the youth impersonating England and then trying to justify why he wanted to lead the nations to their deaths. The youth is described in a story where Colm Cille meets the boy and talks to him, asking him questions of the Otherworld. I gave the youth more of a backstory, so that part is invented. There is a grey-haired warrior who had this branch and caused a man to fall asleep and wake up in the Otherworld. Macha is a very strong female character but she seems to have appeared so often in stories that a number of different Machas have been identified. I think the most interesting story is the one where she wins a race against the king's horses while being pregnant and then cursing the men of Ulster for 9 generations to basically every time they feel threatened by another kingdom, to go into labour for 4 days and 5 nights. Well, it's a unique story for me.

Oh yeah, I really wanted to write the traditional leprechaun, they seem more interesting to me than the modern version. Yup, leprechauns originally wore red clothes, not green as depicted today. Sometimes I joke that it was the Americans who mixed the colours between the leprechauns and Santa Claus up, seeing as leprechauns were dressed in red and Santa Claus was dressed in green before they were brought over to America. Of course I don't know if that's true.

I hope I wasn't too confusing with the Old Sight. It's just a belief I have that some nations do lose the Sight, but they never lose the Old Sight because the mythical creatures associated with that sight are older and more closely related to the avatars. It's just a silly and complicated headcanon.

Hope this chapter was interesting! See you next time!


	47. Chapter 46

I am so so so so sorry for making you all wait like this! Things just got too hectic and I wasn't able to write quickly enough... hence why this chapter is long over-due. I am so sorry, I had family problems, university started again, had a few issues with online friends which for some reason really hampered my writing abilities and the chater was getting too long, I was rewriting it, I had writer block several times and just afksfjwksl... sorry. I just spent the entire weekend doing almost nothing but this and I am tired. I was sick, and now my head is just dizzy from trying to get this chapter ready. I didn't want to make you guys wait so long! And now I'm kind of uploading this in a frenzy, I didn't manage to spell-check and I don't have the author notes written out.

I am first going to take a break because I really need it right now. Then I'll return, write out the author notes, spell-check and I will eventually tend to everything that is important. I am really sorry for sounding so chaotic but my mind is feeling really dizzy and my thoughts are just jumbled up. I really tried my best at delivering a good chapter and I hope you enjoy it despite the wait and possibly the messiness of some parts. I hope you can forgive me and you'll hear from me again.

I'm really sorry and I hope you enjoy the story. *goes off to collapse* (Please don't get mad at the messiness and errors, I'll try to clean that up when I return)

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Behind the Mask Chapter 46

Lugh smirked as he watched the nations struggle back to their feet. Just as Scotland was about to try and speak to him, Lugh stamped on the ground again and caused the nations to stumble and fall.

Ireland spoke determinedly to the pagan god, "Lugh, we came here to seek your advice. Will you listen to us?"

**"I would, but why bring a small army of avatars here if your intention was to talk to me? This looks like an invasion to me,"** Lugh pointed out haughtily, turning his attention to the still-dangling Irish nation.

Letting out a small huff of frustration, Ireland explained, "Because you've refused to appear the first few times I tried contacting you on my own and with Alba. This was out last option to attract your attention and curiosity."

The ancient god considered this for a moment before reluctantly agreeing,** "Very well, it did get my attention. I would have never imagined seeing the day you two Gaels would willingly bring your Sasanach and other nations into this world."**

"England is not a possession," Scotland protested, looking at Lugh disapprovingly.

Lugh shrugged, not seeming to really care and he lowered Ireland slightly, letting him drop roughly to the ground. Ireland seemed to land painfully on his stomach but he quickly scrambled to his feet. Lugh ordered as he went down on one knee, staring at the nations critically, **"Go on, I'm listening."**

Ireland was silent for just a moment before he started explaining, "Sasana has a creature within his mind that has taken on ego-like properties. We've come to describe it as the dark voice but we don't know what it is. We think it may be one of the aos sidhe as it is able to use our bloodlines to attack and injure someone else. It continually attacks Sasana and injures him mentally. We fear that the dark voice will inflict permanent damage on Sasana and we want to get rid of it. We would like you to see if you can identify it and perhaps advise us on how to get rid of it."

The Irish pagan god seemed intrigued by what Ireland had said and he looked at England contemplatively. As he started reaching out, America, Australia and Northern Ireland immediately jumped forward and blocked Lugh from grasping the small nation. America stood in front of England, staring at Lugh warily. After seeing how he had man-handled Ireland, the American had no intention of letting the god do the same to England. He may be a god but that gave him no right to act like an ass and treat them like objects!

Lugh seemed surprised by the resistance. He spoke tonelessly, "**How am I supposed to help your companion if you do not let me near him?"** Lugh looked at the three nations with disapproving eyes while it looked like Scotland and Ireland had actually stopped breathing. Ireland was jerking his head to his side, furtively indicating to the three younger nations to step out of Lugh's way. Australia's stance became less certain as he looked at Ireland worriedly. Northern Ireland frowned at the older Irish avatar but he too seemed to become hesitant when Australia shifted uneasily.

However America refused to move or even break eye contact with the pagan god. A part of him was nervous of course but he wasn't going to let Lugh mishandle England in any way. He briefly looked over his shoulder to check on England and was met by the fearful expression of the small nation. He turned his gaze back to Lugh and he sternly replied, "We want you to help him, but not by manhandling him. You're not going to treat England with disrespect."

The Irish god looked quite astounded by America's daring words. He looked at the North American nation closely, his eyes narrowed. He noted casually,** "You are exceedingly imprudent young avatarling… you should be worrying about yourself more than your friend behind you. Foolish avatars like you don't usually live very long."** Lugh reached out with his hand, forming into a fist with the index finger out and hovering over America, as if he was going to tap America on his head with his finger.

Seeing as Lugh was a giant, America knew that it was going to hurt. So when the finger descended on America, the American lifted his arms and caught Lugh's index finger, holding it away firmly.

This seemed to surprise Lugh quite a bit. He frowned and pressed his finger against America but the strong nation stood his ground and was able to push the finger away from his head. Lugh commented after a few seconds, **"You are unusually strong young one… you don't have the strength of a normal nation. That is quite rare."** Lugh removed his finger and stood up, towering over the nations.

Suddenly he started shrinking, and fast. In just under 10 seconds, Lugh was just as tall as America. The American looked at the pagan god in stunned silence, he had forgotten that Lugh could probably shapeshift. That might actually explain why Lugh had been able to sneak up on them in the fog without the nations feeling the slightest tremor in the ground. Lugh was looking at America expectantly and then he questioned impatiently, **"Is this good enough?"**

America reluctantly stepped to the side to allow Lugh to approach England. At least Lugh wouldn't be so gigantic and terrify England with his strength. Lugh looked like he wasn't the most gentle either and America could only guess too well that anyone finding themselves in the clutches of pagan god would easily have a panic attack.

Even now, England was looking at Lugh rather apprehensively as the pagan god approached him. After seeing the treatment Ireland had been submitted to, England didn't seem to trust Lugh one little bit. America was honestly not surprised by that. England took a little step back, as if preparing to bolt if Lugh showed any signs of becoming aggressive.

Oddly enough though, Lugh walked up to England slowly and crouched calmly in front of the small island nation. America had not expected Lugh to become… gentle so quickly. They had just seen him manhandle Ireland and try to tap America on his head with his gigantic finger, which certainly wouldn't have been comfortable. So why did Lugh change his attitude so swiftly? Despite that, America was in a way relieved that he was nicer towards England. He didn't and wouldn't tolerate someone terrifying England.

England took a hesitant step back, looking at Lugh very warily. Lugh didn't make any hasty movements, he simply showed him his opened hands as if to show England that he had nothing that would hurt. England looked up at the taller nations with an unhappy expression but when Ireland gave him a small nod, the small island nation approached Lugh with an understandably apprehensive face.

Not showing any signs of annoyance from this reaction, Lugh simply reached out for England and cupped his head with his hands, pressing his long fingers against England's temples gently. England gave a small start but did not try to move away, though he was still watching the pagan god's actions carefully. Lugh, on the other hand, closed his eyes and seemed to concentrate.

They were silent for about five minutes before Lugh shook his head and replied, **"I can't make out the creature's original form… to become this integrated with your brother's mind, it had to give up on its own identity, past, being and a good part of its memories. I won't be able to identify it. However I do see a fairly recent scar in England's mind…"**

"A scar? What is it the result of?" Ireland asked, looking a bit disappointed that Lugh couldn't identify what the dark voice originally was. America also felt quite disappointed, he had really hoped that Lugh would be able to tell them more about England's "ego".

Lugh smiled grimly as he released England's head, straightening up to face the other nations. He looked directly at Northern Ireland as he replied, **"When Northern Ireland agreed a few nights ago to the destruction of the fragment of the dark voice within him, Fionn Mac Cumhaill was essentially destroying a part of England's consciousness. It isn't a significant part since the fragment was extremely small but it was enough to cause your brother immense pain."**

Northern Ireland paled at that and when Ireland and Scotland turned to look at the younger Irish avatar in mute shock and horror, the teen avatar seemed to get even paler and inched closer to Australia, trying to hide away from his two brothers. Northern Ireland stuttered, "B-but I d-didn't want to h-hurt England! I-I suspected t-that I h-had a fragment of the d-dark voice in m-my mind so I a-asked Fionn to r-remove it because it w-was such a t-tiny fragment. I-I didn't know that i-it would h-hurt England!"

"Is that the night where you disappeared and England had a fit?" Scotland questioned slowly, looking at Northern Ireland with a hint of anger appearing in his eyes.

Northern Ireland repeated himself shakily, "I didn't want to hurt England!"

**"You still did,"** Lugh replied simply, looking at Northern Ireland sharply. He then also looked at the other nations and explained, **"And I know at least three of you were hoping that I'd be able to physically remove the dark voice from England's mind… if I did that, not only would England experience pain 150 times worse than what he felt on the night where Northern Ireland had that fragment destroyed, but England would be also permanently in a vegetative state from then on."**

The pagan god's expression turned grave as he looked down at England. He sighed, **"It is unfortunate though that since the dark voice's attack on Northern Ireland, it regained some consciousness of its abilities and has become stronger. You hopefully all noticed that the creature started hurting England physically and messing around with his memories so that he couldn't remember the pain or the marks."**

All the bigger avatars nodded slowly while England just looked at everyone with a confused expression. Scotland looked at England grimly as he explained, "England, we all noticed. The marks were too obvious but we couldn't understand why you never complained about it to us. You wouldn't even show any hints of pain. Wales started suspecting that you were genuinely unable to remember and feel the pain."

"Wait, so England never mentioned it to you guys?" America asked in astonishment. But of course if the dark voice was messing with England's memories, it could have easily caused England to forget the large bruise he had at the swimming pool.

"You knew about it too?" Ireland demanded quickly, looking very much stunned by America's words.

America nodded as he explained, "Yeah, I saw it on the day the World Meeting ended at India's place. Did it get worse?" America's heart sank when he saw England's brothers nod solemnly in response.

Australia questioned the pagan god hesitantly, "Can you do something about it?"

**"I can suppress the recent memories that it acquired so that it will forget that it has the ability to physically hurt and mess around with the memories of England. I suppose that would help England a lot already,"** Lugh pointed out, looking at the other nations carefully. When he looked down at England, the small nation bit his lower lip uncertainly.

"I think it would be for the best," Scotland agreed gravely, the other nations nodding their agreement. Northern Ireland was by now completely behind Australia, avoiding Ireland's glares. Australia tried smiling encouragingly at Ireland but he could see that the elder Irish avatar was in a foul mood.

Only Scotland and America were fully focussed on England's well-being. Though England didn't seem happy with being approached by Lugh again, he still allowed the Irish pagan god to step closer to him and cup his head with his hands. This time though, Lugh pressed his two thumbs against England's forehead.

Lugh closed his eyes in concentration once again and after a few seconds, England's eyes and body began to glow blue. After about two minutes or so, the glowing faded away and England let out a deep breath. Lugh smiled gently at England and stood up, taking a step back.

Still regarding Lugh carefully, England backed away until he was beside America, pressing slightly against the other. America looked down at England curiously, wondering if Lugh had been successful in suppressing the dark voice's memories. He really hoped so, that meant the dark voice wouldn't be able to hurt England physically anymore. But it still was in England's mind, torturing him emotionally and mentally. Seems like they were back to square one.

Ireland looked at Lugh cautiously as he asked, "Is there any way you can help us?"

**"I could advise you which mythical creatures could be capable of doing this,"** Lugh suggested, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

"Actually, we already compiled a list of possible suspects," Ireland pointed out, looking down at the ground briefly. After a moment of hesitation, he asked, "Maybe you could have a look and perhaps shorten it?"

Lugh blinked a few times before declaring matter of factly, **"My, seems like some were diligent… I will see what I can do. Show me the list."**

Ireland turned to look at Scotland meaningfully and Scot dug out of his pocket folded papers. When he opened them, America could see there was at least half a dozen paper in there. Were there so many names?! That really shocked the American and his gut twisted uncomfortably at the thought that they would be going through six pages of suspects. Who knew how long that would take?

Scotland walked over to Lugh and handed the papers to the pagan god slowly, looking at the god a bit uncertainly. Lugh took the papers and his blue eyes started scanning through the list quickly, his eyes sometimes narrowing.

After a moment, Lugh smirked as he questioned, "**You know, you shouldn't add gods on your list. They wouldn't stoop so low, especially go to such lengths to torture one person. They would never want to give up on their identity and past. This looks more like the personal vendetta of a smaller creature, not a god or goddess. So that shortens the list considerably."**

The papers started glowing white and suddenly three burst into flames and disappeared into thin air. The remaining three continued glowing and America could faintly hear scribbling, as if the words were rearranging themselves. Lugh handed the three pages back to Scotland and he explained, "Now that list has more likely suspects. You should be able to find the culprit."

"It still is three pages," Scotland sighed, sounding a bit disappointed that it wasn't less. America didn't blame him, he felt the same as well.

"It still is three pages less," Australia pointed out, trying to sound optimistic.

Ireland thanked gratefully, "Thank you Lugh for your contribution. It will really help us a lot."

Lugh shrugged, not seeming to care very much. He started growing taller until he had reached his original height. Lugh looked down at the nation silently for a moment before saying, **"There's no need to thank me, I wasn't doing it to help you avatars. I just wanted you to stop looking for me. You don't owe me anything."** The pagan god's gaze lingered on England for a few seconds before Lugh started walking away, the ground trembling with every step that the giant took. He soon disappeared over some hills, vanishing into mist.

"That was a bit harsh," America noted, looking back at the other nations.

"That's pagan gods for you, don't really want to be forgotten but don't want to be remembered either. They're as logical as butterflies, you never know on which flower they'll flutter on to next," Scotland reasoned, sighing quietly.

"But it seems a bit pointless, he did help us despite putting his efforts under the guise of "not wanting to be bothered by us anymore"," Australia pointed out, frowning in confusion. "He could have just done everything in his power to chase us-"

Ireland swiftly covered Australia's mouth and hissed, "Quit giving them ideas Astráil! They're already difficult enough to handle, I don't want to start worrying about them finding new ways to annoy and scare me!""

"Sorry," Australia apologised, smiling sheepishly. Northern Ireland was still hiding behind Australia and unfortunately his slight shifting caught Ireland's attention.

"Ah yes," Ireland frowned and he motioned for Australia to step out of the way. After a moment of hesitation, the Australian moved out of the way. Northern Ireland was standing on his own, looking down at the ground. Ireland demanded darkly, "Explain yourself North."

"What is there to explain?" Northern Ireland shot back, looking at Ireland with frustrated eyes. "I never meant to hurt England but I knew you were all hiding from me the knowledge that I may be infected by the dark voice. So the only logical thing to do was go to someone from the Otherworld and see what could be done about the fragment that was inside my mind."

"Did you ever think for one second the consequences of your actions?!" Ireland exclaimed angrily, glaring at Northern Ireland.

The younger Irish avatar shrank back a bit and he mumbled back, "No, but I didn't think that there would be a connection at all. I didn't think that what happens on my side could hurt England…"

"That's exactly the problem, you did not fecking think," Ireland growled lowly, stepping closer to Northern Ireland and glaring at him fiercely. "Not thinking causes accidents, even deaths. Not thinking and doing something related to the Otherworld can have unexpected consequences. You didn't even consider approaching us about it!"

"You took my keys away and you wouldn't explain your reasons to me! How am I supposed to trust you to be even honest on something like the dark voice?!" Northern Ireland yelled defensively.

"Northern Ireland, we were trying to protect you," Scotland spoke up firmly, taking a step closer to the angered teen.

"Like hell you were," Northern Ireland spat, glowering at Scotland fiercely though his eyes faintly showed the betrayal North felt upon seeing Scotland side up against him.

"Mates, no need to gang up on him. He did something wrong but he didn't mean it and he certainly didn't know that he was hurting England in the process," Australia quickly tried reasoning, stepping by Northern Ireland's side.

"Fionn didn't even tell me that something like that would happen," Northern Ireland countered sullenly, though he did seem rather surprised that Australia had come and shown his support against Ireland and Scotland.

"It wasn't Fionn's responsibility to tell you what would happen if you allowed him to remove the fragment of the dark voice. You should have looked into it before making rash decisions without considering what consequences could follow your actions," Ireland argued back.

"A little forewarning would have been appreciated!" Northern Ireland shouted in exasperation. "He asked me if I was sure I wanted to go through with it and I said yes. He didn't mention anything else to me, he didn't even warn me that what he was doing could have an effect on someone else-"

Scotland interjected with a dark frown, "Northern Ireland, that's self-entitlement that you're demanding there. You have to consider those around you and to reflect on your actions. Which you didn't do in this case."

That seemed to upset Northern Ireland quite a bit and he opened his mouth to argue back. Before the argument could get out of hand, America quickly interrupted by saying, "Can you discuss all of this when we're out of the Otherworld? I think it would be better that we first get out of here."

England agreed hesitantly, "America's right, I think we should get out as well. Didn't you mention that time passes much slower here Ireland? I remember you once said that one hour here could either equate to one day in our world or even one week."

"Seriously?!" America questioned in astonishment. He had completely forgotten about that tiny detail with time. It was true though, America could remember the stories where someone disappeared for one night and 30 years had actually passed when he returned to the real world. Or another guy had spent 3 years in the Otherworld and when he came back, 3 freaking centuries had passed.

"Ah shite, I completely forgot about that!" Ireland swore, shaking his head furiously. He glared at Northern Ireland one more time before walking away. He looked around at the other nations before saying, "Alright, we have to go back the way we came in. By going out the same way we came in, we minimize the amount of time that has already passed in our world. So we'll have to start moving now."

"**Aww, won't you continue arguing for a while longer? We rather enjoyed it, if we have to be honest,"** an unknown female voice drawled smoothly. Ireland looked around swiftly, trying to find the source of the voice. Suddenly three beautiful women appeared directly behind Ireland, causing the Irish nation to jump as he was startled by the abrupt apparition. One woman had fiery red hair, the second woman had curly brown hair and the third had silky black hair. Despite the different hair colours, they all have the same face roughly. They looked like identical twins, even if all three had different hair.

When Ireland saw them, he quickly became uncertain and looked visibly uncomfortable. All three women were looking at Ireland intently, all smiling but they didn't appear friendly at all. America whispered quietly to either Ireland or Scotland, "Who are they?"

"**We are three goddesses of the Tuatha Dé Danann foolish boy," **the woman with the red hair laughed loudly. She presented, **"The brown-haired woman is my sister Banba and the black-haired woman is my sister Fódla. I myself am named… Ériu."**

Australia frowned in surprise as he started saying, "Hold on, isn't that the name…"

"…on which my own name is based on?" Ireland finished, looking back at the Australian briefly. He then nodded shortly as he added, "Yes, she's my eponym."

**"Well, I am also the geographical aspect of Ireland,"** Ériu claimed haughtily, smiling widely at the nations.

**"I am the intellectual and spiritual aspect of Ireland,"** Fódla added coldly, narrowing her eyes at Ireland.

**"And I am the warrior aspect of Ireland,"** Banba finished with a battle-hardened expression. After a moment of consideration, she continued, **"It is a surprise to see you again after all those years. With the fact that we were your mentors once, we'd have thought that you'd have the courtesy of dropping by now and again at least."**

"Sorry," Ireland mumbled, looking at the three sisters earnestly. America was a bit surprised by what Banba had said. They had mentored Ireland? When? How long ago? Ireland had never mentioned that! Then again, at what point could he have mentioned that?

**"You should be,"** Ériu smirked, walking closer to Ireland and laying a hand against Ireland's forehead. She seemed to be concentrating on something and she suddenly asked with a frown, **"Why did your friends and you come here looking for my consort Lugh?"**

**"The guy you slept with even though you were already married to Mac Gréine?"** Fódla questioned with sneer, looking over at Ériu expectantly.

Ériu coloured a bit in her cheeks and she shot back, **"That's completely beside the point. What I want to know is why avatars from the living world have wandered so far into the Otherworld to find Lugh? I see that it has something to do with that English avatar."**

Banba looked closely at the other nations before shrugging, **"It doesn't matter that much Ériu."**

"Besides, we're already leaving," Ireland laughed uneasily, motioning with his hand at his side to the other nations to start walking away from the three sisters. Scotland nodded silently and nudged at the others to start going. Ireland himself took a step back from Ériu. He explained, "And you don't need to force it out of me, you've probably already looked far enough in my memories to know why I came here seeking Lugh's advice."

Ériu pouted, **"So what? You could have had the decency of saying that you were coming or something of the sort. Although this whole story with the dark voice sounds rather interesting… but why don't you and your brother continue arguing? We were really enjoying the show."**

**"Watching things get out of hand are the funniest parts, especially when the argument shifts from verbal to physical,"** Banba admitted, grinning widely as she approached Ireland. Fódla followed suit and all three sister had formed a semi-circle around Ireland. The Irish avatar looked notably uncomfortable. The other nations slowed down to see what was going on, especially America and Australia. America couldn't shake the feeling off that Ireland might need some help. He knew that Ireland could handle himself but seeing as the Irish nation had before him his mentors, chances were that they knew everything about him and could use that knowledge against him.

**"Why don't you choke your brother like you did once? I remember being very entertained seeing everything descending into chaos after that,"** Fódla suggested, sounding way too excited about her proposition.

"Please, I have to get going. I can't stay in the Otherworld for too long," Ireland explained, walking away from the three ominous-looking sisters.

Ériu smirked darkly, **"Since you're asking so nicely… how about we don't let you and your friends leave? It would be interesting to see how much time passes in your world if we keep you here a while longer."**

"Leave my friends out of this," Ireland snapped angrily.

**"My, someone is getting feisty here,"** Fódla drawled, laughing loudly. She challenged, "**Why don't you fight for that right? Fight us to release your friends but you have to defeat us six times so that all of you walk free."**

"I don't want to fight," Ireland growled, taking several steps backwards.

America shouted, "Hey, you're really unfair by ganging up on Ireland like that. You'll have to face me as well!"

"Count me in too, mate," Australia declared determinedly, stepping in beside America.

"We didn't do anything wrong, there's no need to fight!" England protested, looking at America and Australia in shock and then looking over to Ireland and the three sisters.

Scotland hissed warningly, "Fools, stop walking right into their traps. They're testing you."

Sadly Scotland's words went unheard and America became aware that all three sister goddesses were now watching England intently. England swallowed quietly and he stepped closer to America seeking safety.

Banba smiled widely as she looked at her two sisters, proposing instead, **"How about we have Ireland and his friends fight us and anyone who can defeat us may leave the Otherworld. But those that don't manage have to stay here with us."**

"Hey, there's no way England can defeat any of you!" Northern Ireland exclaimed, glaring at the three goddesses. "You're trying to use tricks to get to England, admit it already."

America swiftly picked England up and he growled protectively, "You get anywhere near England and I will punch you over the moon."

**"How cute,"** Ériu laughed loudly and the two other sisters giggled along. Ériu cocked her one to one side as she claimed, **"But you're going to have to try harder than that. We have our ways, England could be gone in a matter of seconds and you wouldn't know where to look."**

An old woman appeared beside the three sisters suddenly and the old woman croaked disapprovingly,** "Now that's enough harassing from you three lasses. Let the avatars return to their world."**

None of the three sisters seemed to agree with what the old woman said and they began arguing with her. Ireland turned to look at the nations and he mouthed silently, "Start moving NOW!" Briefly looking over his shoulder, Ireland walked towards the others and all six nations nation-hopped away from the squabbling people of the mounds.

* * *

After a few seconds, they arrived at the place where they had woken up not too long ago. This was the place where they had entered the Otherworld. It took Ireland and Scotland a few minutes to locate the direction of the entrance.

Then the rest of the nations were instructed to form a line and take a step forward. When they did that, America felt like they were crossing a threshold. The colours around the nations fluctuated and about two minutes after the morphing of the landscape, they were once more on the hill of Tara.

"How much time has passed?" Australia questioned rather nervously, looking at the sky. America and the others looked up at the sky as well. It was rather dark but America could see the sun rising. Ah, so they had just passed the night in the Otherworld.

"Don't worry guys, it's dawn," America pointed, sighing with relief.

Scotland frowned and shook his head, disagreeing, "America, the sun is on the wrong side. It's dusk."

"But when we went into the Otherworld, the sun was almost gone from the horizon. Here the sun is just setting," England protested, looking at Scotland in confusion. America and Australia nodded in agreement.

"Alba's right, this is dusk…," Ireland muttered lowly as he stared at his phone, showing the other nations that the date was a day after they had gone to the Otherworld. America's eyes widened in confusion and shock.

He stuttered, feeling quite muddled, "But we were barely an hour in the Otherworld! Are you seriously telling me that we actually spent an entire night and day there according to the time in our world?!"

"The time in the Otherworld never correlates exactly with the time here," Ireland replied, looking sympathetically at the confused American, English and Australian avatars. He took a deep breath and he began to say, "And North, Alba and I really need to discuss with you about your actions taken towards the fragment of the dark voice in your min-" Ireland had been turning around to face Northern Ireland sternly when he noticed that the younger Irish avatar was nowhere to be seen. "North?"

"Umm, he left while you guys were talking about whether it was dusk or dawn," Australia explained helpfully, smiling sheepishly when Ireland's expression became completely stunned and shocked.

"Why didn't you stop him?!" Ireland exclaimed in annoyance, clenching his hands into fists tightly. He let out a loud huff of frustration.

"He looked very upset mate," Australia replied, shrugging his shoulders. "I didn't have the heart to stop him. I think he wants to be alone for a while."

Scotland sighed wearily, "North does that too often, he's always running away from the things he doesn't like or doesn't agree with. It is time that he takes responsibility for his actions and faces them."

"But don't we all do it technically? Running away from the things we don't like? We don't always do it physically but most of us don't like facing things that we don't like," America pointed out hesitantly, hoping Ireland wasn't too angry about it. But the Irish nation needed to understand, to sympathize with Northern Ireland. Northern Ireland couldn't and wouldn't live up to what Ireland demanded from him all the time.

Ireland sniffed, "Yes, but in theory we have to face those things at times, whether we like it or not. And North has a lot of trouble of even once facing the consequences of his actions. He's too often reckless and then he tries to ignore the fact that he could have hurt himself a lot. "

"Do you always face the things you don't like? Or the bad things you've done in the past?" England questioned quietly, looking up at his eldest brother. Ireland blinked in surprise at the unexpected question, opening his mouth to say something before closing it, looking uncertain.

Scotland chuckled at Ireland's expression and said teasingly, "Admit it Ireland, he got you there."

The Irish nation pouted a bit but after a moment of thinking, he unwillingly conceded, "Fine, you're right I suppose. I'm not perfect either and I have done things that I still find difficult to face today."

"So isn't it logical that you shouldn't expect from Northern Ireland to be absolutely perfect after you have admitted yourself that you're not perfect either?" America asked rationally, looking closely at Ireland.

"But-" Ireland began protesting as he frowned before being interrupted by Australia.

Australia walked up to Ireland and nudged him lightly in the side, interjecting with a shrewd smile, "Ireland, you're at least 3,000 years old while North is only 4 centuries old. You really should be a bit more mature than that and accept that Northern Ireland is a lot younger so he won't have the same amount of experience as you."

Ireland rolled his eyes as he pointed out, "Physical age rarely has anything to do with maturity."

"We can see that," Scotland laughed, looking pointedly at Ireland.

"Very hilarious Alba," Ireland grumbled, but there was still a hint of an amused smile that appeared in his expression. But he then turned to England and asked, "But I've been meaning to ask… how are you feeling Sasana? Ever since Lugh suppressed the memories of the dark voice? Any different?"

"Nothing has changed really," England confessed honestly, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't feel any different to be honest."

"That's better than nothing," Ireland responded, seeming relieved by England's answer. He became thoughtful for a moment and then he looked at the other nations, declaring, "I think it is best for us to return to my house, have a bite to eat and then we should sleep."

"Why sleep? No one here is sleepy, we were just an hour in the Otherworld, after all," America questioned quizzically, staring at Ireland in confusion.

"Not yet anyway, but it'll come quickly enough. We may have spent just an hour in the Otherworld, but our lands in this world have moved through a whole night and day. Humans are lucky in that respect, their body adapts to the time they're always currently in but unfortunately for us, we are connected to our lands so the effects of the time lapse that happened here will catch up with us. So we've been technically up for about 24 hours straight," Ireland explained patiently, checking to see whether America, Australia and England were following and understanding his explanation.

"That's really complicated," Australia admitted slowly, scratching the back of his head.

"Don't you remember America, when you called me a few days ago? I didn't know the date anymore and I passed out in the hallway and slept there? Do you remember that?" Scotland questioned, waiting for America's answer. When the American nodded, Scotland clarified with a crooked smile, "That's what happens when you spend about four hours lost in the Otherworld… the time lapse there isn't always proportionate to here but I was still extremely exhausted. Word of advice, Ireland has a shit sense of orientation."

Ireland got red in the face and he huffed, "My sense of orientation is not that bad! I just confuse similar-looking landmarks, it happens to everyone." Ireland rolled his eyes and glared at Scotland while the Scot cheekily stuck his tongue out at him.

"Let's just go home," Ireland sighed loudly, turning around to lead the way, the other nations following him.

* * *

A few hours, America woke up from his sleep. Yawning widely, America tried stretching with waking England up who was sleeping beside him. When the nations had arrived at Ireland's home, they had just enough time to make and eat sandwiches before the tiredness caught up with them and made the nations too drowsy to do anything else except drag themselves to a place where they could sleep.

Luckily Ireland had in his guest room two beds that could be pushed together so America, England and Scotland managed to fit in comfortably. As for Australia and Ireland, America heard that Ireland had his own bed and a couch but by that time, America had drifted off to sleep. He had just lain down on the bed and poof, he was gone. That's how tired he had been.

But now, America found that he couldn't fall asleep anymore. America slowly got out of bed, taking care not to wake either England or Scotland up. Managing to do that without much of an issue, America peeked through the curtains to see roughly what time they were. From the looks of it, it was about mid-afternoon judging by the position of the sun. (that is, if America wasn't confusing its location again)

America crept out of the guest room quietly, not wanting to run into the risk of waking up the others. He did pause after a moment, wondering where he should go. Going downstairs wasn't much of an option since Australia was sleeping on the couch in the living room. Could America dare go to Ireland's kitchen? He had no doubt that Ireland might be struck by the same streak of bad cooking like England and… what could do there as well? He didn't feel like snacking anyway.

So where else could he go? Go to the bathroom and drink a glass of water? America looked up and down the dark hallway, completely clueless about what he should do. He spotted that the door to Ireland's room was slightly open and faint light was streaming out. Wasn't Ireland sleeping like the others? Perhaps he couldn't fall asleep like America? Or maybe he had nodded off and had forgotten to switch the lights off?

The North American nation stopped briefly, wondering if he should just check if Ireland was okay. He supposed he could try and have a peek, since the door was open. America crept quietly, thankful that the hallway had a carpet instead of just wooden planks. It made it easier for the American to make little to no sound.

Once he was closer to Ireland's room, America quietly nudged the door a little and then tried sneaking a peek into the Irish nation's room. He saw that Ireland was sitting at his office table with tons of books and papers strewn in front of him, apparently reading an ancient-looking book that he had in front of him.

Even though Ireland was sitting facing America, he didn't seem to notice that the door of his room had moved. He was either really engrossed into his book or he was too tired to notice… judging from Ireland's eyes, America went for the latter assumption. Hadn't Ireland slept at all?

"Hey, shouldn't you be asleep too Ireland?" America whispered quietly as he entered the room, walking up to Ireland. The Irish nation jerked his head up in surprise and he looked up to see who was coming in. When he saw that it was America, Ireland sighed and looked down at the papers and books that he had in front of him.

Biting back a wide yawn, Ireland explained quietly, "I would like to but I can't. So rather than waste time trying to fall asleep, I'm going through our list and trying to figure out which ones we should visit first."

"But isn't that a lot of work?" America questioned, looking at the mounds of paper worriedly. Wasn't it a bit dumb of Ireland to work on something like that and being dead tired? In his tiredness, Ireland could accidently make a mistake.

"Probably doesn't help that it's not very organised, Mann was always better at this than me," Ireland laughed weakly, trying to gather some of the papers and stacking them together.

"Mann?" America looked at Ireland in confusion, wondering who the Irish nation was referring to. America took a chair and sat down facing Ireland.

"Oh, that's a nickname for Isle of Man, my brother," Ireland clarified.

"Wait, you mean that small island in the middle of the Irish Sea?" America asked before holding back a small chuckle, "That nickname is rather funny though his name is a bit strange to begin with."

"Meiriceá, his name has nothing to do with men. It's a shortening of the name Manannan Mac Lir, which is a name he shares with a Celtic sea god," Ireland explained, raising a thick eyebrow at the American. But then he added with a grin, "If you really want to poke fun at him, call him "Ellan Vannin Veg Veen"."

"What's it mean?" America asked curiously.

""Dear little Isle of Man". That nickname drives him nuts, it's the best way to make him react and get him out of his books once in a while," Ireland chuckled, turning his attention back to a few stray papers on the table.

"I'll have to use it when I meet him then," America declared, letting out a loud laugh before quickly shutting his mouth. America reminded himself that there were other nations sleeping in the house, he didn't want to wake them up. He then asked in a quieter tone, "But why are you going through the list now? I thought Lugh had crossed out the unlikely ones so that we could go after the creatures that would have the ability to… become like the dark voice."

"Yes, but I've noticed that he still left some of the unlikely one uncrossed as a joke. Good thing I saw that coming. I mean come on, a clurichaun would never think of possessing someone and torturing them in their mind. They're a bit malicious but not that sadistic," Ireland grumbled a bit as he crossed out the word "clurichaun" on the long list, frowning at the name.

Noticing America's lost expression, Ireland elaborated, "A clurichaun is basically the drunk version of a leprechaun."

America snorted in laughter. He mirthfully pointed out, "But aren't leprechauns kind of drunk already?"

"Imagine a creature drunker than a leprechaun then," Ireland smiled as he rolled his eyes. "Clurichauns are surlier though and they like living in wine cellars, protecting the wine. Well, as long as you treat them right. Or else they wreak havoc around the house and spoil the wine. Apart from that, I doubt that one would get angry to the point of trying to possess Sasana."

"Yeah, I don't think we really need to check if they're a potential suspect," America snickered.

Ireland's mouth twitched into a grin and he added lightly, "I think we can also strike out the fear dearg and the alp-luachra. They're a bit annoying but more or less harmless. Neither would ever go as far as to cause pain to the people they meet. Not even when they're angry." Ireland went to strike out those two names on the list as well.

"The far darrig and the alp-looch-rah? What do those guys do?" America asked curiously, wincing a bit at the names. They sounded quite difficult to pronounce correctly. Why did so many languages insist on having words that were almost impossible to pronounce without making yourself look silly?!

"The fear dearg, which is Irish for "red man", is sometimes seen as a close cousin of the leprechaun and clurichaun. He is known for making practical jokes more but apart from that, I don't see one of them becoming the dark voice. The alp luachra is basically a greedy fairy often seen taking on the form of a newt and creeping up on anyone dumb enough to sleep near a spring or stream. He then crawls into that person's mouth and slides down to the stomach to eat the contents. That's all he does but it can get quite annoying when you always wake up with that empty feeling in your stomach. I also doubt that an alp luachra would be tempted in becoming the dark voice…"

America grimaced in disgust at the description of what the alp luachra did. That was just nasty, why the hell would a creature exist for the sole purpose of eating food out of someone else's stomach?! That was parasitism at its worst! Trying to regain composure, America attempted to forget everything he knew about the alp luachra and instead asked, "But you said that the far darrig is known for practical jokes… what if the dark voice was the result of a practical joke gone horribly wrong?"

"You think so?" Ireland questioned, becoming thoughtful at America's words. He looked at the list for a few minutes, seeming to consider the thought. He added a question mark next to the far darrig's name, saying, "Alright, we could always check. It wouldn't hurt us to do so. You do have a point, the dark voice could have been originally a practical joke." He looked up at America and then with a teasing smile, added, "And don't be worried about the alp luachra, the usual cure was to eat a lot of salt so that the fae would get thirsty and flee, never to return."

"Ireland!" America exclaimed in annoyance before he was shushed by the Irish nation. America nevertheless growled in a lower voice, "I just managed to make myself forget about that alp loo-thing, you didn't need to remind me about it!"

"But I saw that it really disturbed you and I couldn't help but bring it up again," Ireland snickered under his breath, staring at America with mirthful eyes.

America rolled his eyes and looked away, a bit annoyed that Ireland had managed to get under America's skin like that. But the concept did disgust him and it surprised him that Ireland seemed so casual talking about it. After a while, America asked, "Ireland, why can't you sleep? Be honest, there is something that is keeping you awake."

Ireland shifted uncomfortably at America's question and he shrugged helplessly, "There is nothing really, I just can't seem to fall asleep."

"You know I can squeeze the truth out of you easily, huh?" America pointed out, smiling knowingly at the Irish nation. Ireland looked back at America suspiciously and warily, probably remembering the times where America could be very perceptive when he wanted to be.

He still unwillingly muttered, "There is nothing Meiriceá…"

"Ireland?" America warned simply, standing up from his chair and leaning across the table to stare at Ireland with an ever-growing grin.

Ireland narrowed his eyes at America as he leaned back in his chair, looking at the ground to avoid America's eyes and he insisted quietly, "Nothing."

America smirked as he reached out with his hand and poked Ireland in the cheek. He declared, "Ireland, there is something. Now what could it be… something about… Northern Ireland? Am I right?"

The Irish nation closed his eyes tightly and stood up abruptly, pushing America's hand away. He walked over to the window not far from his table, looking outside into the backyard garden. Ireland exhaled loudly, sounding very frustrated and weary. America stood up quietly and walked a few steps closer to Ireland, keeping his distance.

He asked hesitantly, "I'm right?"

"Look, I'm just worried because I don't know where he went," Ireland replied through gritted teeth, refusing to make eye contact with America. "I don't think he knew that the time lapse was going to catch up with him like it did for us. I just hope that he was somewhere safe when he became too tired to continue moving. And I think I really need to talk to him but every time…. every single time, something happens where I get too angry to think, he rushes off or we're at each other's throat… we never seem to be able to sit down and have a serious talk." Ireland seemed to catch himself there and he stopped talking. He inhaled sharply and was silent for a couple of seconds. He then looked up at America and apologized, "I'm sorry for the outburst."

Ireland walked slowly back to his chair and sat down heavily, sighing quietly. America went back to his seat as well and he question cautiously, "What did those three sisters mean when they were talking about the time where you choking Northern Ireland… were they telling the truth?"

The elder nation's expression became pinched and pained as he looked away. He could only manage to mumble, "It's something that happened a long time ago… I had a violent argument with Sasana and he somehow convinced me that North would eventually… replace me if I didn't stop rebelling. For the stupidest reasons, I believed him and I simply… no… I didn't think clearly." At this stage, Ireland looked very uncomfortable and seemed unable to continue.

America felt a bit uneasy too and he decided to not push it further. Instead, he decided to focus on another point. "Why did the three sisters want England so much? The moment they noticed him, they were trying everything to get to him. Lugh as well, he was a right bastard to us but he became really gentle with England. Is there a reason that they all have that strange reaction?"

Looking relieved that America was steering away from the subject, Ireland explained, "That's the biggest flaw of the creatures of the Otherworld: they're overly fond of youth on a rather shallow level. You put in front of them a baby or a child, many of them will try anything to claim them as their own. It was a rather common theme back in the day of someone being exchanged for a changeling. Not even young brides or first-time mothers were safe from faes. But it was especially babies and children that were at risk. I tell you, if we left Sasana in the Otherworld for just 3 minutes or so, I can guarantee that we would never see him again. That's why we have to be really careful when we're in the Otherworld".

"But why are the creatures of the Otherworld so attracted by youth?" America questioned, completely mystified.

Ireland shrugged simply, "The Otherworld seems almost completely based on youth… most of the people of the mounds spend their existence as youths… well, a bit like us actually. There are very few of us who look elderly and the same thing happens in the Otherworld. In a sense, youth represents healthy and vibrant life force and the aos sidhe adore that kind of energy." At that, Ireland frowned a bit as he looked down at his list. He continued, "That's why we should be careful of the aos sidhe who like children too much. Like the Tylwyth teg, they're Welsh faes. They're not known for being hostile and malevolent but they're very attracted to blonde or fair-haired children and will covet them. We bring Sasana to them, we might just as well find a changeling in his place the next day. I actually think that some of faes Sasana has befriended are from the Tylwyth teg but they seem to have repressed their urges fairly well. But I'm not so sure about those who are unaccustomed to Sasana…"

"What do they actually do when they switch someone with a changeling? Why do they do it?" America questioned, having always wondered about that. He didn't really see why the faes would want to leave a changeling behind and take a human child with them.

"There are many different reasons why faes do it," Ireland explained with a crooked smile, "Sometimes they take humans to use them as servants, sometimes they steal babies to rear them as their own or they do it out of pure malice. It is quite a popular trend among the faes to exchange their children for human children. The reasons will always vary though. In some cases, though this isn't as common, the faes exchange their elderly with human babies so that the old faes can spend their last days being coddled by the human parents. A few faes have been known of taking young wives and first-time mothers to have them become nannies for their own children. In most cases though, the faes take a child because they want to and they replace the baby with a changeling who usually dies after a few weeks so that the parents never start questioning why their "baby" isn't growing."

"That makes some twisted sense but it's almost like faes are the human equivalent of a cuckoo bird," America responded, a bit surprised by all the reasons. He then asked, "But a lot of these stories were probably invented to explain children that were not normal, such as those who had autism or Down Syndrome?"

Ireland nodded slowly, looking a bit sad, "Unfortunately yes and it is very likely that several people have suffered or even died because of those stories. And it certainly doesn't help that among all those confusing tales and rumours, there were actually faes carrying this out."

America shook his head unhappily, sad to hear that things like that had happened. He seriously hoped that no one would dare to do the same to England. Or else America would personally chase down the culprits and make them pay. No one messed with England while he was around! After a few moments of silence America noticed that Ireland was writing something on a small note.

Ireland asked while he continued writing, "Dusk will be coming soon so we could start our search already… will you come with me Meiriceá?"

"Aren't we going to wait for the others?" America questioned, sounding a bit confused.

"I think it is for the best that we split up so that we can tackle more mythical creatures in a shorter time. They're still asleep so we'll let them sleep their tiredness out. That way we can get an earlier start as well," Ireland hesitated, studying America's expression closely, "Or you could wait here to go with Alba and Sasana and I will go see if Astráil can be woken up-"

"No, no, I'm coming with you," America hastily interjected. He did honestly want to go with England but if he stayed behind, he would just make England curious and confused over his actions. Saying "I wanted to go with you" would just sound too corny. He asked, "What are you writing?"

Ireland explained as he seemed to finish writing his note, "I'm just telling the others that we're going to get an early start and Alba can grab the other page that I'm leaving behind. I'm taking only one page and we'll try to get through all the suspects on that page. Alba and the others will try to eliminate the other page. I'm also saying that we should at least come back here at midnight for a short break and exchange what we've managed to figure out so far."

"Sounds fair," America nodded approvingly, a part of him wondering how well the others would fare. He was a bit nervous with not being there for England, he hoped Scotland and Australia wouldn't let any harm come to him. He was certain that they would, but a part of him couldn't help but worry.

"Don't worry Meiriceá, Sasana will be protected fiercely. Alba will probably avoid bringing Sasana to the most dangerous creatures and simply stick to the ones he can manage," Ireland reassured, smiling knowingly at America. When America looked at the Irish nation in slight shock of having his thoughts read so easily, Ireland replied, "Your thoughts are very clear on your face Meiriceá but you needn't worry. But Alba knows what he's doing and I doubt that he would be careless."

"Alright, alright, don't need to become full blown mind reader here," America laughed a bit nervously.

"Only when you stop being good at perceiving what is on everyone else's mind," Ireland shot back slyly. America could understand that it has slightly peeved Ireland off that the American had been able to hit the nail on the head so well. Ireland jotted down a few more things and then stood up, holding the note in his hand. He looked at America as he asked, "I'll just put this note in the guestroom so that Alba sees it. After that, I think we can go… are you ready?"

America smiled widely as he replied, "As ready as you are."

"Then let the "hunt" begin," Ireland declared gravely as he walked out of his room.

* * *

_England blinked slowly as he looked around to see where he was, though a part of him already knew where he was. The small nation stepped warily into is mind, wondering quietly whether he was going to see the dark voice tonight or not. Lugh had said that its memories were suppressed but to what extent had Lugh been successful. _

_Had the dark voice completely forgotten? Or did it remember attacking Northern Ireland not too long ago. Would it attack England again? …Would England be hurt by it again? England was asking too many questions, huh?_

_**I agree completely. Can you shut your mind for once and stop thinking? Your endless chatter is really annoying,**__ the dark voice growled lowly, brushing past the small 9-year old. England whirled around quickly to face the dark voice._

_The dark voice was kind of lounging beside England, a bit snake-like. Its eyes were still dulled, so the dark voice was still not completely its "normal" self. England had no idea whether this was good or not. A part of him insisted that it was very bad news and England felt sorely tempted to run away… or set up that white dome, that had worked well for a while. _

_The dark voice suddenly spat, __**Don't you DARE use that white dome against me EVER AGAIN! **_

"_Why should I listen to you?!" England yelled back, beginning to wonder if he should set up the dome just to annoy the dark voice. _

_Suddenly the dark voice slithered till it had wrapped its body around England, squeezing his waist warningly. To make matter worse, it had its limb-like arms wrapped around England's neck as well. It narrowed its dull eyes as it sneered, __**You dear little pathetic shit, if you use that white dome again, I'll get angry. And when I get angry, I remember things. I remember my past abilities and I remember some of my memories. I don't like it and neither do you enjoy it particularly much.**_

_England rasped fearfully, "You don't want to remember?"_

_**If I did, I wouldn't have thrown it all away in the first place, **__the ego pointed out darkly, still glaring at England. _

"_But why?" England questioned, struggling to breathe. He wanted to keep the dark voice distracted, maybe it would loosen its grip on the island nation. The dark voice stared at England closely, some of the familiar frenzy appearing at the back of its eyes. _

_However the "spark" quickly died out and the dark voice released England, flowing away from the gasping nation as it "stood" up, looking down at England. It replied haughtily, __**I have my reasons, though I can barely remember them. Whatever they may be, I know that they were strong reasons. No matter how much of a monster you view me as, I know that I have a good reason for being here, for torturing you. **_

"_There should never be a good reason for torturing someone!" England snarled, glowering fiercely at the dark voice. It seemed to smirk and it dropped down to four legs, starting to walk towards England in a stalking feline-like manner. _

_**But there is. Or I wouldn't have gone through all the trouble of losing my memories, my past, my identity and my entire being. I know something happened that made me give up willingly on all these things and dedicate the rest of my existence to making life hell for you. **__The dark voice was in front of England now, pressing its forehead against his. The hard and cold eyes were staring hatefully back at England's burning ones. The dark voice snickered, __**If you knew any better, you would stop doing things deliberately that stop me from hurting you. It only makes me angrier and things hurt a lot worse. It is better for me to forget all this and sink back into my insanity, to continue hurting you as I have done centuries before. Nothing changes. You and I will continue this battle until I drive you back into the stinking Earth whence you came from.**_

_England shouted in frustration, "What have I done to you to deserve something like this?!"_

_**Oh, I doubt that it was something that you did directly. **__The dark voice started grinning madly as it stepped away from England, walking backwards until it stood up from its for legs to tower over England again. It looked at England with calculating eyes._

"_But then why-" England began protesting before being cut off by the dark voice._

_**Well… if I'm not completely wrong, it has something to do with "A life for a life". Either way, I'm not stopping until you're gone, **__the dark voice purred ominously before starting to run towards England, opening its mouth wide and baring its teeth. _

_As it jumped unto England, the small nation squeaked in fear as he tried avoiding the imminent snapping of its jaws. Suddenly he was engulfed in the cavernous darkness of the dark voice, either England had been "swallowed" or simply merged with his ego. _

_Whatever the case, England found himself floating in dark liquid. In which he could breathe in but that was the least of his worries. To England's dismay, he felt himself sink lower into the deep abyss that awaited below him. A million voices rose up from the deep, all tangled up and confusing. Old voices, young voices, every kind of detached voices flew upwards and brushed past England. _

_But the deeper England sunk, the more panicked he became. He didn't know what was down there. Feeling like he was watched, England looked up and saw a flicker of flame just above his head. _

_Instinctively, England reached up with his two arms and tried catching the flame. As he expected, the flame disappeared and England was empty-handed. Not two seconds passed before the tiny flame appeared in front of England's eyes. Before England could do anything, the flame flew right into his chest and absorbed itself into England's body._

_England let out a loud gasp as he felt the heat of the flame spread from his chest to the rest of his body. The island nation closed his eyes tightly, shivering slightly as a tingly feeling ran through his body. His feet touched hard ground suddenly and England fell forward onto his knees._

_When he opened his eyes, he felt like he had already been in this memory. Looking around, he saw the fire and the burning lands and he already knew… it was the memory he had the other night. Did that mean there was a part of this memory that he hadn't seen? _

_A mixture of a choked scream and sob caught England's ears. England turned around and walked through the violent fire until he arrived at a blackened plain. There he found young Cymru on his knees, his arms wrapped around his shaking body. England approached Cymru and was shocked at what he saw._

_Cymru's had definitely worsened since last time. The small nation was covered from head to toe in soot, his clothes and hair were singed by the fire and Cymru was nursing a hand that seemed to have been burnt at one point. But what really struck England the hardest was not Cymru's appearance, but his current emotional state._

_Tears were flowing freely down his cheeks and his sobs wracked his body so violently that England thought Cymru was choking on his grief. His eyes were shut tightly and he was shaking his head back and forth, his body shaking and pained sobs escaping his mouth. _

_The Welsh avatar whimpered, "Please stop…"_

_Suddenly a dark voice came out of Cymru's mouth, __**"You pathetic brat, you let her die. You let her burn even though she gave you everything!" **_

"_NO!" Cymru cried out, holding his head in his hands tightly, his face twisting with anguish and agony. "Get OUT, get OUT! I didn't let her burn, I couldn't do anything. Albion was already dying when I found her, I couldn't reach her. The fire engulfed her!" _

_The face changed and a feral grin appeared on Cymru's face, his eyes opening to small slits, the green eyes glowing dangerously. The dark voice gloated, __**"Oh you enjoyed watching your sister burn. You saw from her widened eyes that she was burning on the inside too. Black smoke was coming out of her mouth. Her blood was boiling as it dripped out of her nose and ears, burning her skin. Her skin was burnt everywhere, the skin turning red as the fire started eating itself out of her body. Her bones were no doubt already melted, turned to dust. And you just watched. You could have done something but you preferred to watch. Watch her drown in her own blood. Watch your dearest sister succumb to the fires of your enemies. You enjoyed watching you sick twisted child."**_

_The grin disappeared and Cymru screamed, "I DIDN'T ENJOY WATCHING ALBION DIE!" He opened his eyes wide but they were still glowing green. He shook his head and yelled, "Get out of my mind, I didn't do anything to you. Please get out!"_

"_**Not until you're rotting in your grave," **__The other voice cackled deeply, making Cymru twitch and jerk. It looked like two people were within England's brother and they were both fighting for control of Cymru's body. _

_England watched helplessly, afraid that his brother was being possessed. Why did the other voice sound so familiar to England's ears? He heard hurried footsteps and England turned around just in time to see Cumbria jumping through the flames. He skidded to a full halt when he saw Cymru's convulsing body. England felt some relief, Cumbria was surely going to help his brother._

_Cumbria watched Cymru's twitching limbs closely, staring at the glowing green eyes and the tears. A look of horror and fear appeared on Cumbria's face and he reached for his belt. England looked in growing terror as he saw Cumbria take out a sword from the scabbard attached to his belt. _

"_Sorry Cymru," Cumbria whispered apologetically, raising his sword above his head. England wanted to close his eyes but something made him continue watching… was Cumbria really going to do what England thought he was going to do?_

_Cymru looked up at Cumbria, his glowing eyes not showing any kind of recognition. Cymru started baring his teeth, as if he was going to attack. Before he could do so, Cumbria brought the sword down on his brother, smashing the flat side of the blade on top of Cymru's head. _

_The Welsh brother stumbled from the impact, falling down on his side. Cumbria was quickly on top of Cymru as the other tried getting up, grabbing Cymru's neck and smashing his head on the ground. Cymru's body relaxed as he lost consciousness. _

_The Cumbrian avatar sighed sadly, standing up slowly. He checked if Cymru was just out cold and he also seemed to be checking if he had wounded the Welsh avatar. England was still reeling from the sudden outburst of violence. Why had Cumbria done THAT?! Hadn't he seen that Cymru was struggling, that he was fighting something inside him? _

"_St-st-ohp!" A voice suddenly shouted with a slight stutter. England turned his head and saw his younger self rushing out of the smoke, looking at Cumbria in horror and shock. Cumbria frowned darkly and he grabbed his sword, slashing it in the smaller England's direction. The small English avatar let out a surprised cry as he jumped back, barely avoiding the point of the blade._

"_Stay back you foolish lad. Get out of here! You're not safe, go away!" Cumbria yelled furiously, waving the sword in front of him, forcing the small England to back away. The small avatar looked at the passed out Welsh avatar, looking exceedingly worried. _

_Wessex stepped out of the smoke and he quickly strode over to the small England, grabbing the small avatar and placing him on his shoulders. Wessex glared at Cumbria and he spat, "Don't you dare wave your grimy sword at the little guy you British scum!"_

"_Cry me a river Saxon pig," Cumbria growled, moving so that he was in front of the unconscious Cymru. The northern Briton snapped angrily, "Get the hell away from us you bastard. You and your sheep have caused more than enough damage! May you burn in hell for this!" _

"_We're only claiming what is rightfully ours," Wessex sneered, "My people came here to help protect your people, they broke their promise by not paying for our services. You deserve this, you will not make a fool out of the Saxons ever again. You won't give, we take by force." The smaller England looked at the exchange in confusion, not really understanding what was going on. His eyes kept straying back to Cymru agitatedly. _

"_We Britons will not be chased off our lands by you filth!" Cumbria yelled, getting more and more enraged. He paled suddenly when Mercia, Kent and Northumbria appeared beside Wessex, outnumbering the Cumbrian avatar four to one. _

"_We already did," Mercia snickered darkly, all three Anglo-Saxon kingdoms taking their swords out. Cumbria took a step back, looking behind him at his brother helplessly. _

_Cumbria frowned but then he looked at the ground, seeming to give up. He slid his sword back into his scabbard and he turned his attention to Cymru instead. He grabbed Cymru under his arm pits and pulled him up, slinging him over his shoulder. Looking at the Anglo-Saxon avatars warily over his shoulder, Cumbria walked away and disappeared in the opposite direction, the smoke blocking the others from seeing where the Cumbrian had gone. _

"_How rude, rejecting our invitation to a battle like that" Kent muttered in a bored tone, sliding his own sword back into the scabbard. _

"_Didn't even have the decency of fleeing with his tail between his legs like the dog he is," Northumbria huffed loudly. _

"_Shall we go after him and teach him a lesson?" Mercia questioned, her expression dark and unhappy. It looked like all three Anglo-Saxons had actually looked forward to fighting Cumbria. _

_Wessex shook his head, "Let that coward run, we've already dealt a significant blow to the Britons. They've lost their eldest sister, which is quite a feat when you consider that she was the one who managed to hold out against the Romans during all those years of her people being Romanized." _

"_Well that's a shame, the less of those Briton avatars, the better," Mercia pointed out, rolling her eyes in annoyance. Both Kent and Northumbria nodded their heads in agreement. _

"_I think it is more important that we make something clear to our little friend here," Wessex countered, reaching behind him to pick the smaller England and placing him on the burnt soil. Wessex looked at England seriously as he said, "Did you see what that avatar did to his own brother? Trust me and the other Anglo-Saxons, we will never do something like that to you. The Britons… they show their love and affection like this, by hitting and hurting the other. You're better off becoming our sibling than being anywhere near those ruffians. They will never show you kindness. Do you accept our offer?"_

_The smaller England looked Wessex carefully, seeming to understand a little bit what the Saxon had told him. He looked behind him in the direction of where Cumbria had disappeared with Cymru. He looked back to face Wessex, Mercia, Kent and Northumbria. He nodded firmly. _

_All four Anglo-Saxon avatars grinned widely, Wessex reaching out to pick England up from the ground. He exclaimed enthusiastically, "Welcome to the family then little brother! With us, we'll make you the strongest avatar of these lands!"_

"_Well, there is already one lesson to be taught here," Northumbria pointed out, looking at Wessex meaningfully. Wessex nodded as he placed England back on the ground. England looked at Northumbria quizzically and the northern avatar motioned with his head for England to look in front of them. _

_Northumbria declared, "This, little brother, is power. This is might. Make your enemies understand that they can't mess with you without paying the heavy consequences. Make them fear you and be unpredictable and volatile. Never show mercy. Strike your enemies down before they even take the first step."_

_The current England was standing in front of the smaller England, feeling disgusted as his younger self's eyes widened with awe and understanding. England wished he could speak against those words, tell his younger self that this wasn't power. But he was helpless against the past, his younger self had listened to those words and had taken them to heart. He reached out and laid a hand on the other England's head, shaking his head miserably. _

"_This was never power. This is tyranny," England muttered sadly as the memory started fading away. Soon enough, England had come out of his memory and he was back in complete darkness. _

_What was strange though was that England could hear someone humming in the darkness. Someone was singing a little song to themselves under their breath. England looked around, trying to see where the humming was coming from. _

"_Myself, thyself?" A young voice suddenly asked. _

_England turned around quickly and found that a small child was standing in front of him. Well… he assumed that it was a child. It had the silhouette of a small child but it didn't seem to have a concrete form. The only thing he could see clearly were the child's eyes and they looked reptilian golden, not the colour you would find normally on a child. _

_The strange child repeated, "Myself and thyself?"_

"_What?" England asked, not understanding what the child wanted from him. Who was he anyway and what was he doing in England's mind. _

"_Myself… and thyself," the child whispered fearfully, closing their eyes briefly. Then the eyes opened again and this time they were blazing with uncontrollable rage. "MYSELF AND THYSELF!" the child screamed and let out a painful cry as there was a large cracking sound, like the sound of bones bending and snapping._

_The child stumbled forward and fell on the ground, crying and sobbing as blood started pooling around them and England. A larger scream came from all around England and he felt the ground drop from under him._

* * *

England woke up with a cry and for almost no reason at all, he began crying. England buried his face in his blanket as he tried to quell his tears. He couldn't understand why he was crying so hard. He had seen worse things, had felt worse pain so he didn't know where the sadness was coming from. The memory he saw had been sad but England was almost certain that his crying was related to the strange child he saw in his mind.

But why would he cry over a child he had never met till now?! England was completely confused and the truth of the matter was, he didn't want to cry. He was sick of crying. He felt like he was being forced to cry. He WASN'T going to shed anymore unnecessary tears!

The small island buried his face more into his blanket, biting his lower lip firmly to stop his sobbing. The sobs wracked his body and he hiccupped quite a number of times. But he didn't stop muffling his voice. He was done with being weak. He was sick and tired of feeling that he was being controlled. He wasn't going to let the dark voice win!

After a few minutes, the sobbing stopped and England couldn't feel tears trickling down anymore. England took the blanket away and took a couple of deep breaths. He hiccupped about two more times and that was it. England sighed quietly, wondering what had come over him. The cause for his crying had felt artificial… as if he had no true reason to cry but someone else had pushed the crying onto him.

England was really confused over this. He was too tired to think about it. The sadness that had led to his crying wasn't genuine, it certainly didn't feel right. He was going to have to ask his brothers about it. It made no sense to him.

Looking around him, England realized that he had been very lucky that no one had heard him. His crying could have easily woken up someone and then he would be surrounded by worried nations asking what was amiss. Somehow feeling glad that he had managed to avoid gaining anyone's attention, England laid back into the bed.

Looking to one side, England spotted Scotland who was still asleep. On the other side, no one. The odd thought struck him that there was supposed to be someone else sleeping on that side. Was it America? Why wasn't he there? His eyes became heavy with exhaustion again and it became difficult for him to think straight. He was going to wonder about that when he woke up again. Right now, he was too tired... England turned on his side facing away from Scotland and he closed his eyes, drifting off into a deep sleep.

* * *

"… a… banshee. Banshee? Are you freaking serious?!" America exclaimed loudly, looking at Ireland in shock and terror. The American had come to an absolute halt, refusing to take a step further. Both nations had reached an old decaying castle and it had been at that point that Ireland had revealed who they were going to meet.

Never did America think that Ireland would be actually nuts enough to bring them to a creature who was basically the bringer of death. America shook his head fiercely. He wasn't going anywhere near that castle!

"Don't be difficult Meiriceá, "Ireland sighed heavily as he turned around to face the stubborn young nation. "The Bean Sí is not dangerous at all."

"Yeah, totally not dangerous. Apart from the fact that banshees scream your ears out and then kill you," America responded sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest tightly.

Ireland looked at America in slight shock and then his expression grew confused. The Irish nation shook his head and answered, "Meiriceá, where in the world did you get that idea from? The Bean Sí doesn't kill and has never killed anyone. They wail to warn that someone from the family is going to die. They would never use their voice to kill someone."

"They wouldn't?" America questioned, a bit surprised. The way the banshee was portrayed in his culture had always been antagonistic, the banshee was basically seen as a menacing creature who killed without reason.

"No, they're perpetually sad creatures that wail and cry when a member of the family she's attached to is going to die. She can be often mistaken for a bad omen but she isn't inherently evil," Ireland explained, still looking at America oddly. America could feel that Ireland was trying to figure out how he had managed to interpret the banshee as an evil creature. Honestly, America didn't really know anymore either. The stories he'd heard of the banshee had just never been positive. So America had come to the logical conclusion that the banshee didn't fall into the good guy category.

Ireland finally just shook his head and he continued walking towards the ancient castle. America hurried up to catch up with the Irish nation and he pointed out slowly, "But Ireland, this castle looks like its private property. At least, it doesn't look like a normal tourist attraction to me. How're we going to get inside?"

Both nations stopped in front of the closed drawbridge, a moat separating them from the castle. America turned to look at Ireland smugly, wanting to say "I told you so". However Ireland didn't give him enough to do so. The elder nation looked at the castle critically and suddenly he climbed over the small wall and climbed down into the moat which was luckily devoid of water.

"Ireland, where are you going?!" America exclaimed, looking down into the moat at Ireland with astonishment. For a split-moment there, America believed that Ireland's sanity had cracked. Then he quickly understood, or at least suspected, what Ireland was up to.

Ireland grinned widely as he answered, "I'm going to climb the castle. Are you coming along?" He added cheekily, "Or are you too chicken to follow?"

America smirked in response as he declared, "Be careful who you challenge Ireland, or you could end up being the one biting on the dust!" He climbed over the small wall and landed beside Ireland in the moat. Before America managed to say anything else, Ireland was already climbing up the other side of the moat till he reached the wall of the castle.

"You better start climbing if you want to prove anything!" Ireland shot back, looking at America briefly before starting to climb the castle's wall, searching for good footholds. America strode up to the wall and started climbing as well.

Several stones jutted out slightly, making it possible to climb the wall without much issue. America felt that the castle was really not in the best shape. He commented to Ireland, "You know, this castle seriously needs to be renovated. It's a bit sad that it is in this condition, it seems like a really old castle. Why hasn't anything been done about it?"

Ireland paused in his climbing, finding himself a good ledge to stay balanced. He answered, "I know, the castle is really in an unacceptable state. But it has been private property for God knows how long and I don't even think the current owner ever came here. None of the locals from the town nearby want to approach it because of the stories of the Bean Sí. They're afraid that misfortune will follow them everywhere if they ever met her so they avoid the castle like the plague. No one seems interested in renovating it either and no one has tried to advertise it to tourists. I don't see this castle going anywhere anytime soon."

America hummed in understanding, continuing to climb. He gave a sneaky smile as he started using his unusual strength to pull himself up with more ease. Before Ireland realised that America was using that unfair advantage, America reached the top of the castle's wall and he pulled himself up.

"Oi, you were using your strength, weren't you?" Ireland accused when he noticed that America had already managed to beat him. America grinned cheekily back at Ireland, making the elder nation huff quietly. Ireland continued making his way up, grumbling a bit under his breath.

"Hey, do you wanna be pulled up? I can help out if you want," America suggested helpfully, reaching his hand down towards Ireland. Ireland wasn't actually that far from actually reaching the top but America thought it would be nice to offer help anyway.

Ireland stared at the offered hand incredulously and he laughed out loud, "Nice try Meiriceá, do you really think I'm that old? No, no, I can do this without help." Just as he said that, Ireland placed his foot on a jutting rock that turned out to be very loose. When Ireland placed his full weight on the rock, it slid out from its place and Ireland slipped, losing his balance. All that was stopping him from plummeting down to the ground were his arms, holding on to another jutting rock tightly.

America automatically reached down and grabbed Ireland's right forearm with his right hand. Ireland looked up at America with wide eyes. America went and grabbed Ireland's other forearm, holding on to Ireland securely. Carefully he pulled the Irish nation towards him with ease, soon pulling him over the wall and placing Ireland lightly on the ground.

Once America had released Ireland, the Irish nation let out a breath of relief as he leaned against the wall to support his shaking knees. He seemed to be trying to get over his shock and adrenaline rush. Ireland shook his head as he laughed weakly, "Thank you Meiriceá, that was a really idiotic move of mine."

"You should pay more attention next time, you could have easily broken your two legs with that slip," America pointed out with a small smile, looking at Ireland sharply. It was pretty lucky that Ireland had been so close, otherwise America didn't know if he would have been able to help Ireland. That move had been quite careless.

Ireland just shrugged it off and chuckled, "I've been through worse and I have suffered greater injuries. Breaking a few bones falling off a castle wouldn't even feature on the 10 dumbest things I've ever done." Just as America was going to say something, Ireland quickly interjected with a grin, "Guess who is behind you Meiriceá?"

The American looked over his shoulder cautiously and the sight made America squeak in fear and jump away, hurriedly backing away until he was hiding behind Ireland. Somehow a young woman had been directly behind America and he hadn't heard a thing! And the woman's appearance didn't help much.

She was deathly pale. She was wearing a white dress with a grey cloak and her hair was an uncomfortable mixture between greyish silver and white. But what made her appear creepier was the pale skin and her sunken eyes… they were pink and had dark rings beneath them. Was this a banshee?

"Dia dhuit," Ireland greeted calmly in Irish, pushing himself away from the wall and walking towards the pale woman. She looked at Ireland closely and nodded, briefly glancing at America. Ireland looked a bit surprised by that and he laughed loudly.

"What is it?" America asked nervously, had he missed something? Why was Ireland laughing? Had the woman done something laugh-worthy?

"Nothing bad, she just told me that she thinks that you look quite attractive," Ireland replied as he looked at America, still chuckling mirthfully. He added with a laugh, "I just find it funny that a Bean Sí would admit that, they hardly ever do."

A banshee was crushing on America? Alright, things wouldn't be able to get creepier than that. But then a strange thought occurred to America. He questioned, "Hold on a second, I didn't hear her talk. How do you know what she's thinking when she didn't say anything?"

"They can't talk America, their constant wailing and keening makes it pretty much impossible for them to communicate verbally without hurting their throats further. She's talking to me telepathically," Ireland explained and he turned his attention back to the banshee.

Very slowly and very warily, America walked slowly till he was beside Ireland. The banshee was standing right in front of Ireland and she looked at America with miserable eyes. She turned her attention back to Ireland and seemed to be asking him something, most likely asking what the two nations were doing here. Ireland looked at the banshee quietly for a moment before he bent his head.

The banshee reached out and grasped Ireland's head gingerly, narrowing her melancholic eyes slightly. A few silent minutes passed and America shifted uneasily. He knew they were probably talking a lot but this silence was just creepy. Night had completely fallen now and there was barely any light. America noticed that the banshee had translucent skin and was glowing faintly. She strongly reminded America of a ghost and there was a big probability that she was one… but America didn't want to dwell on that, it would just make him jumpier.

After a while, the banshee released Ireland's head and she shook her heard slowly, looking very gloomy. Ireland looked up at the banshee and he sighed, "A shame you can't help us."

"What happened?" America asked curiously.

"I let her see some of my memories so that she understood what we're looking for but she told me that the dark voice isn't one of her kind… sadly she can't help us further, she has no idea what the dark voice could be," Ireland answered, smiling sadly as he shrugged. "Ah well, at least we tried."

"Well it is sad that she doesn't know more…," America agreed unhappily. But this was just the beginning, they had others to question. No need for him to start despairing yet.

A pained whimper caused America and Ireland to look back at the banshee. She was looking very mournful and tears were beginning to trickle down her cheeks. She nodded briefly at Ireland before turning around, turning into fog and disappearing into thin air. America stared at Ireland expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"She said she had to go, someone is going to die in a few hours so she's going now to wail for their death," Ireland answered, turning to look at America. Ireland became thoughtful for a moment before asking, "So, shall we move on to the next creature? We have to tackle quite a number of them tonight."

"Let's go then, the night is still young," America declared, smiling widely in an attempt to break up the uneasy atmosphere. It seemed to work as Ireland returned the smile.

"We'll see how well you can handle the people of the mounds then, hmm?" Ireland questioned with a teasing smile. He then took out his list and looked at it briefly before he extended his hand towards America. America grasped it and both nations were off to their next destination.

* * *

The night was still young but Scotland was already grumbling. Something about Ireland not waking them up and making them lose precious time. At least, that's what England understood. Night had already fallen by the time England had woken up again and both Scotland and Australia had begun to stir. Now all three nations were out of Ireland's house and had nation-hopped to Scotland's place and they had landed in a hilly landscape, a place Scotland called the Highlands.

"Hey, don't begrudge Ireland mate," Australia tried calming the irritated Scot down. "I think he just wanted us to be fully rested, that's why he didn't wake us. I doubt he did it to annoy you specifically."

Scotland sighed heavily as he conceded, "I know, I know… it just annoys me that they got such an early start next to us. We've woken up so late and Ireland has already decided that we are to return at midnight… I don't think we'll manage to find a lot of mythical creatures before we have to head back to Ireland's house."

"But we can try to find as many as possible during the time we have left?" England suggested, hoping that Scotland's mood would improve. The small nation really didn't like seeing the normally cheery nation being so annoyed. In a way England was thankful that Australia was with them as well, the Australian nation seemed good at breaking up the tension.

"That's true, nothing's stopping us from starting now," Australia agreed, smiling at Scotland hopefully, trying to make Scotland return the smile.

Scotland let out a small huff but a hint of a small smile appeared on him nevertheless. He looked down at the list that Ireland had left them and he looked up at the other nations. He stated, "Very well, I thought we should start easy so we'll be meeting a big dog. A very big dog in fact, but it usually isn't aggressive or hostile. It's called the Cù Sith. Though we may have to be careful when it first sees us, it loves tackling unwary humans to the ground."

"I can handle a lot of creatures so I think I can handle a big dog tackling us… I don't think it will even be able to knock me to the ground," Australia declared confidently, looking at the hills in the hopes of spotting that big dog.

Scotland looked a bit apprehensive as he questioned, "Are you sure about your words Australia? The Cù Sith is probably listening to you right now and it will accept the challenge if you're serious about it."

Australia laughed as he answered, "Scotland, I grew up in a land where everything tries to kill you. I am sure that I can handle a big dog easily."

"We'll see about that…," Scotland trailed off, shifting a bit uneasily. England stared at Scotland carefully, trying to understand why Scotland was sounding do odd. What did the Cù Sith have that made Scotland sound so anxious? England looked behind him at the opening of a valley and he saw a dark spot that was moving in their direction.

England looked up at Australia and Scotland but neither seemed to notice that something was approaching them, and very fast. England looked back at the dark spot and was shocked to see that the creature was very close now. He could see now that it was a dog and it wasn't large. It was extremely huge! England spoke up shakily, "Scotland, Australia, I think I see the Cù Sith running towards us!"

"Where?" Both nations questioned simultaneously, turning around to look in England's direction. But barely a second passed and something heavy crashed against Australia, knocking the stunned nation to the ground. England would hear the wind being knocked out of Australia. The Cù Sith had an incredible speed, it took it less than a minute to go from a small dot in the distance to being on top of one of the nations.

The Cù Sith was easily the size of a young bull, which probably explained why Australia had been knocked down so easily. England looked it over briefly, noting the wild dark green shaggy fur that covered its body and its braided tail. The paws were easily as big as a human's hands… England looked over to Australia, trying to see if he was okay.

For the time being, it looked like the Cù Sith was enjoying licking Australia like a sweet, covering him in slobber. Scotland was crouching beside Australia, barely supressing a laugh as he asked, "How're you doing Australia?"

Australia tried glaring at the Scot before closing his eyes to avoid having them licked by the over-enthusiastic canine. He growled, "That is not a dog. This is a freakin bull!"

"Last I checked, the Cù Sith still looked like a dog to me," Scotland replied, laughing loudly at Australia's reaction.

"Dog. Bull. Bull-sized dog. I don't care," Australia said lowly before shouting, "Can you just please get it off me before it licks my face off?!"

"Alright Cù Sith, you've made your point," Scotland stated calmly as he stood up and he tried pushing the large dog off of Australia with his shoulder. The dog seemed unwilling to give up its hold on its victim but it eventually stepped away from Australia, plopping down onto its haunches as it panted heavily.

Australia sat up and he grimaced in disgust as he saw in how much slobber he was covered in. He gingerly tried wiping most of the slobber off but he looked so drenched that England and Scotland were unable to hold their laughter back. Australia glowered at the other nations, clearly embarrassed judging by the way his cheeks reddened in response. He stood up and tried wiping off more of the slobber, grumbling quietly under his breath. He accused, "You could have warned me Scotland!"

"But I did warn you," Scotland chuckled, wiping away a few tears of laughter.

"No, I didn't hear you say anything of a bull-sized dog. You just told me it was a big dog," Australia huffed in irritation, glaring at the Cù Sith suspiciously. The Cù Sith cocked its head to one side, its tongue lolling out.

"I was telling you the truth technically," Scotland answered, finally seeming to calm down. Australia didn't look impressed at all as he crossed his arms over his chest. When the Cù Sith tried inching closer to the Australian, the nation took a long step sideways to get away from the oversized dog.

England had also managed to calm himself down and he pointed out after moment, "But you could have told Australia exactly how big the dog was. He simply assumed that it was a normal big dog, not one as big as this one."

"Exactly," Australia declared, nodding stiffly.

Scotland smiled sheepishly as he apologized, "Sorry Australia, I probably should have done that. I just couldn't help it, you seemed convinced that you would be able to handle it and I wanted to see if the Cù Sith was going to react to your challenge. I never expected it to be so enthusiastic over it."

The Cù Sith walked towards Scotland and nudged him in the chest with his black nose, staring at the Scot with questioning eyes. Scotland looked at England and Australia briefly before he answered, "Yes, there is a reason why we've come here looking for you. I was wondering if you could help us with something."

Scotland shortly summarised the whole issue with the dark voice in England's mind. England was surprised to see that the Cù Sith seemed to be listening rather intently. So it was able to understand them so well? Once or twice, England could have sworn he saw the dog nod its head, as if agreeing. Scotland ended his summary with the question of whether the Cù Sith could confirm if the dark voice was connected to his kind or not?

The Cù Sith pricked up its ears at the question, turning to look down at England. With its size, it looked quite scary in England's eyes. When the dog approached England, it bent down its head to press its wet nose against England's forehead.

England shivered involuntarily, the feeling of the dog's cold nose against his skin being quite uncomfortable. After a minute or two, the dog pulled its nose back and shook its head. The dark voice wasn't a Cù Sith then.

"Alright, I suppose we have to continue searching then," Scotland sighed, sounding a bit disappointed. Australia asked if it was definitely certain that the dark voice wasn't connected to the Cù Sith.

England was looking at Scotland when he felt something grab his wrist. He looked and saw that the Cù Sith had gently grasped his wrist with its teeth and was attempting to make England go along with it. Remembering Ireland's warning to never go along with a creature of the Otherworld, England yanked his wrist away from the dog's mouth and took a step back.

But that didn't seem to deter the dog. It actually seemed to incense the Cù Sith a little as it circled England and bit down on England's raincoat hoodie, attempting to carry him off. Panic flared up in England's chest as he tried freeing himself from the dog's grip.

"Oi, leave him be you mutt!" Australia suddenly yelled when he noticed what was going on and he grabbed England, undoing the zip of the hoodie so that it was separated from the raincoat. Australia backed away with England in his arms while the Cù Sith was almost looking at the two nations dumbly with the hoodie in its mouth.

It growled lowly as it began stalking towards them but then Scotland bellowed, "DON'T YOU DARE CÙ SITH!" The dog jumped a bit at the Scot's words, looking at the Celtic nation with hurt eyes. It let out a low whine as it looked at England but it turned away, starting to trot back towards its valley. It let out a booming howl that caused all three nations to gasp and stumble.

"What in the world is it trying to do?!" Australia exclaimed, almost dropping England as he tried to regain his senses again. England's mind was reeling equally as much… the howl had crashed its way through their bodies, shaking up every organ and every bone. England felt a bit sick in the stomach and had a slight headache.

Scotland didn't seem to be faring better as he seemed to be gasping for breath and he was struggling to stay on his two feet. Scotland managed to explain in between pants, "The Cù Sith - is a bringer - of death. – It catches souls – brings them back – into the Otherworld – so it has – the ability to use – a bark that is very – strong and it can use it – to see if we're close – to death because – if we were, our souls – would have been chased out – of our bodies by this point."

"Why the bloody **** would it do that?!" Australia shouted angrily, looking very shocked and enraged.

"Probably angry – that we didn't let it – take England with it," Scotland explained breathlessly, wheezing a bit. "Though of course – you know it would have – killed England and brought him – back to its pups – to have England be their playmate – or chew toy, I don't know – either way, nothing – good. England, if a creature starts taking you – you yell, draw attention to yourself. – Alert us if something like that happens – or else we can't get you back once they've managed – to cross into the Otherworld with you."

England nodded his head mutely, closing his eyes to get rid of the dizzy feeling. Who knew that just a simple bark would have such an effect on the three nations? Australia cursed quietly but he still held on to England, as if convinced that if he let go, England would be snatched by someone.

Scotland said hurriedly, "We have to go before the Cù Sith decides to howl a second time… if it howls three times, we'll be out cold for quite a few hours. We have to get moving…" Scotland walked over to Australia and England and he laid a hand on the Australian's shoulder. They nation-hopped away just as the Cù Sith howled in the distance.

* * *

The next place America and Ireland landed in was a woodland area, surrounded mostly by oak trees. America shivered a bit, the forest looked quite ominous and that idea was probably encourage by the wind blowing among the trees, making creepy creaking sounds.

"S-s-so who a-are we looking f-for here?" America stuttered quietly as he looked at Ireland pleadingly. The lighting here was even worse and America could barely see Ireland.

Ireland replied, "We're looking for the leanan sídhe, they're beautiful muse-like women. Don't be lulled into believing that they're harmless, they are actually quite dangerous. They're something like energy vampires, they feed off of our energy. A leanan sídhe basically strives to take a human lover and while she is a muse to him and gives him a lot of inspiration, she continually drains him of energy until he succumbs to exhaustion."

"Why the hell would she do something like that?!" America exclaimed, looking very shocked. He then added, "No wait, let me guess. To get to the life force of her victim?"

"You're catching on quickly," Ireland pointed out, nodding his confirmation that America had guessed right. He then proceeded to say, "Just one thing that you need to keep in mind: They will offer themselves to you if you catch their fancy. You know by now that you shouldn't accept but DO NOT reject any of them either. You accept and you become hers but if you refuse, she becomes your slave."

"And what happens if one of them becomes a slave of mine?" America asked uneasily, quietly wondering what he should do if a leanan sídhe offers herself to America. How should he act?

"She'll do everything to make you fall in love with her so that she can turn the tables on you. So neither option is viable. Just don't respond to their offers at all. Don't push them away but don't let them drag you either," Ireland explained sternly, looking at America closely.

America smiled nervously as he questioned, "Do you think I could sit this one out?"

"Giving up so quickly?" Ireland asked, barely suppressing his laughter.

"No, I just don't really want to meet those creatures…," America answered, looking around him carefully. Was it just him or did a small twig snap faintly? Ireland followed America's gaze, indicating that America had not imagined the sound. Someone was close by.

Ireland started walking in that direction, much to America's alarm. He called out, "Ireland, you don't know what's out there!"

"Of course I do, who else would be eavesdropping on us right now?" Ireland reasoned rationally, casting a wary glance at America before turning his attention to the dark trees of the forest. Suddenly a pair of women of ethereal beauty slipped out of the shadows, staring at Ireland with immense curiosity and interest.

Before America could make his way towards Ireland, he found his path blocked by three other women who had seemingly appeared of nowhere. America gulped silently and back away, bumping into two other leanan sídhe. Dear God he was surrounded! And of course they immediately started attempting to seduce him.

The American was really lost, how was he supposed to not accept and not decline at the same time? He felt completely cornered, like he was caught in a bear trap. When one of the leanan sídhe grasped America's wrist and tried dragging him away, America planted his feet firmly to the ground and refused to be budged. He didn't know if pulled his hand away would be seen as rejection so all he could really do is refuse to be moved.

Thankfully he was stronger than the leanan sídhe as she soon gave up on trying to drag him along with her. So instead, she and the other leanan sídhe gathered around America, all of them chattering and giggling, all of them trying to make themselves noticed by America.

Now America understood how superstars felt when they would walk one step outside and be literally mobbed by fangirls. It made him feel uncomfortably claustrophobic. In an effort to distract the faes, America stated loudly, "I'm in love with someone."

The leanan sídhe seemed to stop their efforts in seducing him but to America's dismay, he saw that they had actually become more interested. One of them asked in a silky voice, "Who are you in love with, handsome one?"

Oh dear, what was America supposed to do? Tell them about England? But what if they tried stealing him? America couldn't tell them anything! But wait… maybe he could discourage them by revealing England's gender to them so that he could trick them into believing that he was just of the other sexuality. That should work, shouldn't it?

"I'm in love with another man," America declared confidently, staring at the leanan sídhe carefully. They blinked in surprise but much to America's shock, they all tittered loudly and they pressed closer to America.

Another of the leanan sídhe giggled enchantingly, "That is so sweet and adorable, tell us more about him!"

The others chanted alluringly, "Tell us, tell us, tell us!"

Suddenly Ireland's familiar voice interrupted, "Sorry fair ladies, but my friend and I must be on our way. Thank you for your help and enjoy your night!" America swore he had never seen such a relieving sight such as Ireland pushing his way through the female faes towards America and grabbing his hand.

As Ireland pulled America out of the crowd of the leanan sídhe, America heard the faes wish them farewell and start giggling like highschool girls. America could only be glad to be away from them and he thanked Ireland gratefully, "Thanks, I had no idea at all of what I should do."

"That was quite evident," Ireland laughed loudly before they nation-hopped to another place.

* * *

When they arrived in a small, desolate-looking valley, America was still thinking over Ireland's last comment. He protested, "But I managed to handle them without your help, didn't I?"

"I should probably tell you that the second thing the aos sidhe love the most is love. They adore youth but they're also drawn by couples who are in love. So your mentioning of you being in love spiked their interest naturally," Ireland explained, looking a bit guilty for not having mentioned that detail to the American.

America tried his best to compose himself as he asked, "Is there anything else that I should be aware of when dealing with the people of the mounds? We have youth, love, death… anything else?"

Ireland thought it over and then shook his head, "I think that's it, those are the three most important subject for the creatures of the Otherworld. Everything else is of lesser importance."

The American nodded, hoping that that was the end of it. America shivered as the wind blew against them, the weather was really becoming colder. The night was pitch-black as well, the stars seemed to be covered by clouds tonight. It gave the place they were in a more menacing appearance.

So… who's next?" America questioned after a moment of uneasy silence.

Ireland looked at his list momentarily before declaring, "We're looking for the Gancanagh, a male fae. He is known in English as the "love talker"."

"Well isn't that a cute name," America laughed loudly to try and lighten the dark atmosphere of the place. He did also find the name rather silly. Who would want to be known like that?

"Laugh all you want at his name Meiriceá, but don't make the mistake of underestimating the Gancanagh," Ireland warned sharply as he folded his list and stuck it in his pocket. He looked rather grave and maybe a bit uncomfortable. America wondered curiously what was worrying Ireland about meeting this creature.

"But what does it do? Drive us nuts by talking about love constantly?" America joked lightly, still trying to make the atmosphere less heavy. He had some success since Ireland chuckled briefly but the Irish nation became serious again rather quickly.

"No, the Gancanagh is infamous for seducing women and then indirectly causing them to die from pining for him. He probably has the death of hundreds of women on his conscious if he has remained active since I last saw him which was several centuries ago," Ireland explained heavily, looking at America hesitantly.

America was at loss for words for a few seconds before he grimaced, "Ouch, doesn't sound like a nice guy after all. How does he look like?"

Ireland replied, "A young handsome man with a pipe in his mouth or hand… and he won't be smoking the pipe. He's rather recognizable, he spends a lot of his time in lonely valleys such as these."

"You mean like that man over there?" America asked slowly, pointing behind Ireland at a strange man who was leaning against a tree not far from the nations. The man, or rather the fae, was looking at them sharply, his greyish eyes scrutinizing the nations. He had a pipe clenched in his teeth but no smoke was coming out of the pipe, just as Ireland had informed. America had to unwillingly admit that Ireland was also right on the appearance, his looks were definitely the type that would draw several young women to him.

In a way, the Gancanagh seemed like a sexual predator to America. And he hated those kinds of creatures. Ireland was looking behind him and judging by the sigh that followed, America was certain that he had spotted the infamous "love talker". Now he hoped that they wouldn't be attacked by the fae…

Ireland started walking towards the Gancanagh and America followed close behind, the American returning the sharp gaze of the male fae evenly as the creature's gaze seemed to intensify. Once they were close enough to the Gancanagh, America couldn't help but blurt out, "Why do you have a pipe when you're not going to smoke?"

The Gancanagh answered shortly, "And why do you have such an idiotic expression on your face?"

America was hurt by the response. "I was just asking," America mumbled quietly.

"So was I," the Gancanagh replied with a mocking smile, removing the pipe from his mouth and holding it in his hand. He turned his attention to Ireland and he questioned suspiciously, "What do you want Ireland? Another moral lesson?"

"I need your help," Ireland explained, looking very unhappy that he was saying that.

The Gancanagh blinked in surprise as he asked with exaggerated high tone, "What, me? The mighty Ireland decides to stoop to my level to ask for my help? Am I worthy of your attention?" He dropped his tone and he growled lowly at the Irish nation, "Don't make a fool out of me Ireland, what do you really want from me?"

"I'm being honest Gancanagh, however much I hate admitting it," Ireland insisted, looking down at the ground with an angry frown. He looked up at the Gancanagh after a moment and he asked, "It's about one of my brothers, he has a creature in his mind and we're trying to identify it." Ireland went on to explain the whole situation to the Gancanagh, emphasizing the possibility that the dark voice could be another Gancanagh and Ireland wanted to know whether the Gancanagh could confirm if the possibility was true.

The male fae listened to Ireland intently, his expression becoming thoughtful. Once Ireland had finished explaining, the Gancanagh was silent for a minute. He then smiled sadly and said in a sympathetic tone, "Ah, poor little lad. To have something so horrible within him… need a hug of support?"

Just as the Gancanagh took a step closer with his arms opened wide, Ireland swiftly jumped away, causing America to do the same to avoid the Gancanagh's embrace. The Gancanagh's kind smile twisted into a smirk and the fae snickered loudly, "Spoilsports."

"And since when do you go after men as well?!" Ireland exclaimed furiously, glaring lividly at the nonchalant fae. America was a bit confused over what the fae had wanted to do, but going from Ireland's reaction, it certainly didn't sound like it would have been something good. Why did the Gancanagh offer a hug to them?

The Gancanagh looked at Ireland with a raised eyebrow as he countered, "Watch your tongue Ireland, you're sounding borderline homophobic there. And you know, after a few centuries, you would get bored of the same thing over and over too. So why not switch it up? It makes things more interesting and it is quite amusing picking up those who begin to question their sexual orientation." The male fae laughed loudly at that and America couldn't believe a creature could sound so gleeful about something of this sort.

"But… how exactly does he kill his… umm, victims?" America asked Ireland, feeling a bit nervous. The American really wanted to be sure how the Gancanagh killed so that America could avoid him.

"Whenever he embraces someone, he puts them under a spell that makes them addicted to his physical contact and will be begging for it constantly. The Gancanagh enjoys disappearing and watching from afar his victims get withdrawal symptoms as they get more and more desperate for the Gancanagh's touch. They eventually die from self-neglect or drug abuse or alcohol abuse. Often from all three," Ireland answered darkly, looking at the Gancanagh with narrowed eyes. He demanded sharply, "So can you help us?"

The Gancanagh looked bored as he replied sullenly, "The creature you're talking about can't be connected to me. Have you forgotten that according to tradition, I am the last of my kind?"

"That is true but I thought…," Ireland began determinedly before being cut off by the male fae.

The fae interjected with an irritated tone, "…no, that dark voice is not the result of my magic. I'm completely based on driving my victims to insanity by neglect, not by verbal and emotional abuse like this creature. Besides, my spells can only work if I manage to physically touch my victims and if my memory isn't failing me, I was never successful in touching you or anyone else in your family. So you can rest easy, I am not abusing your darling brother."

Ireland frowned at the Gancanagh's words but he nodded his head in understanding. He sighed, "I can't really rest since I still don't know the identity of the dark voice but at least I know that it is not you. Thank you for… well, telling us." Ireland backed away slowly from the male fae and motioned America to follow him.

America and Ireland started walking away, the Gancanagh staring after them quietly. America cast a quick glance over his shoulder and was surprised to see that the male fae looked absolutely miserable. He raised his pipe to his mouth and started gnawing on the end of it, looking very despondent.

"Why does he look that sad?" America finally questioned when he felt they had walked far enough to be out of hearing distance. He added in a disgusted tone as he looked at Ireland, "From the sounds of it, he's doing the things he likes and he enjoys what he's doing. So why is he like that."

"I think he's not that active anymore," Ireland replied as he met America's stare, "You saw how he talked and acted, right?"

"Yeah?" America prompted curiously.

Ireland looked behind him briefly before saying, "He's usually more smooth and suave… I've actually never seen him this negative and unhappy. I don't know why he's become like that, it could be connected to the fact that he is the last of his kind."

"What happened to the others?" America asked, trying to understand the concept.

"Well, it's just said "according to tradition". There is no explanation for what happened to the others, so I can't answer your question. The only thing that is certain is that the Gancanagh we met remembers of a time where there used to be more and it probably makes him miserable thinking about it," Ireland explained with a shrug.

"Who's next on the list?" America questioned Ireland.

"The Dullahan, if we're lucky. Or unlucky, you take your pick," Ireland laughed weakly as he turned his head to look at America. As he did so, Ireland suddenly stumbled. America tried catching him but the Irish nation managed to catch himself and straighten up.

"Are you okay Ireland?" America exclaimed, looking at Ireland worriedly. That had come out of nowhere, was there something wrong?"

Ireland hastily reassured, "I'm fine, I'm fine, don't worry about me. I'm perfectly fine."

"Why did stumble then?" America inquired, looking behind him and confirming that there was nothing that Ireland could have tripped over. The ground was even completely flat!

The Irish nation smiled a bit nervously as he shrugged his shoulder, saying, "I don't know, it just happened. No need to worry about me, there's nothing wrong."

Of course America wasn't buying any of that so he walked in front of Ireland and blocked his way. He reached out and grabbed Ireland by the shoulders, looking at him closely. With both nations being completely in the dark, America couldn't see Ireland very clearly so he had to take a closer look.

That's when he noticed Ireland's exhausted eyes. Ireland may have well managed to convince himself that he wasn't tired but from the physical state of his eyes, America could see that Ireland's body was reaching its limit of keeping up. He questioned lowly, "How many hours of sleep have you had?"

"About 7 or 8 hours?" Ireland answered, sounding unusually meek. America frowned, that was just another confirmation that Ireland wasn't being truthful.

"You had less than that," America accused. Ireland struggled and made America release his shoulders and the Irish nation took a step back. America demanded, "Tell the truth, you've barely slept at all!"

"So what if I haven't?" Ireland shot back challengingly, narrowing his eyes at America. "We have to help Sasana so we can't keep dallying around, we've got to keep moving."

"Not when you're that exhausted Ireland," America declared sternly as he blocked Ireland's way again. Just as he saw Ireland get angrier, America pointed out logically, "Ireland, if we continue you'll get more tired and you'll eventually exceed the limit that your body can handle. And then what do I do when you're out and we're in the middle of an encounter with a dangerous mythical creature. I would probably do something insanely stupid that would get me killed or you killed. You want to run in that risk."

"Look America, I can handle a lot more of this than you can so I think you're just underestimating me. I can keep going for a while," Ireland replied firmly, glaring at America with narrowed eyes. "I'm not that weak after al-" Ireland had been sidestepping to get out of America's way when he stumbled again and fell on his knees this time.

America swiftly caught the Irish nation and pulled him back to his feet, scolding angrily, "Ireland, stop being a stubborn donkey and accept that you're getting too tired! You need sleep. We're going back to your place right now and you're going to sleep for a while."

"But it isn't even midnight yet," Ireland protested, sounding weary as he bit back a yawn.

"I don't care, you're going home and you're going to get some sleep. Don't make me physically carry you," America warned, letting go of Ireland carefully as he doubted whether Ireland could still stand up. Surprisingly enough, Ireland still had some strength length but it was certain that he was on his last reserve of energy.

"Fine," Ireland grumbled, looking away from America.

"Can you nation-hop?" America questioned, wondering if Ireland had enough energy left to nation-hop home. When he saw Ireland frown and shake his head, America couldn't fight back the teasing smile that appeared on his face. He extended his hand towards Ireland and offered, "I'll get us home then, and you will sleep."

Ireland rolled his eyes as he reached out to grasp America's hand, looking at the younger nation with a mixture of annoyance and weariness. America smiled back cheekily, for some reason enjoying the flipped roles they were currently in.

* * *

Scotland, England and Australia landed in a small valley bordered by a dark forest all around. In the middle of the plain stood a hollowed-out stone. Both England and Australia turned to Scot, both their faces expressing the most pressing question on their minds.

"We're on the Isle of Mull, not far from Iona," Scotland answered simply.

"And we're looking for…," Australia prompted hesitantly.

"A glaistig," Scotland replied with a smile, quickly explaining, "She's a rather beautiful lass, blonde hair and in a long flowing green dress. You see that stone over there?" Both English-speaking nations nodded uncertainly as they turned to look at the strange stone. What is doing here? Scotland continued, "Wait just five minutes, I'll be right back."

England only managed to turn his head in time to see Scotland nation-hopping away. Australia wondered loudly, "Where is he off to now? Do you know what he wants to do?"

"I don't know more than you Australia," England responded, looking at Australia curiously. England then turned his attention to the hollowed-out stone, wondering what purpose it had and what Scotland wanted to do with it. He assumed that it was connected to the mythical creature they were going to meet but how the Glaistig and this stone connected was beyond England's comprehension for now.

After waiting for Scotland for about 10 minutes, the Scot appeared in front of them carrying a plastic bag. From the plastic bag, Scotland took out a 2-litre milk carton. As both England and Australia were staring at the Scot in complete confusion, Scotland motioned for them to hold on a moment and he proceeded to fill the hollowed-out stone with the milk.

"W-what's that for?" Australia asked, sounding very much lost.

"It's a gift for the Glaistig, it might make her come here swifter as well," Scotland claimed confidently but it was certain that neither England nor Australia understood the logic of it. Why give milk to a mythical creature? They weren't cats after all. Scotland looked at both nations sympathetically, shaking his head as he explained, "You two have to let go of the concept of logic here. Some of the Celtic mythical creatures adore milk and are always thankful to the people who put a bowl of milk out. Most of the humans today who do that put out milk for the cats only, but many mythical creatures come out from the Otherworld almost exclusively for the milk."

"Don't they have milk in the Otherworld?" England questioned, frowning slightly in confusion.

"Doesn't appear so, I've certainly never seen it there," Scotland replied.

"And can't they steal-" Australia began to ask before being interrupted by the Scot.

"No, the milk has to be offered to them or else they can't get to it," Scotland clarified, the confusion of the two other nations seeming to amuse the Celtic nation. He placed the empty milk carton back into the plastic bag and he walked a few steps away from the stone, sitting down facing away from it. He instructed the two others, "Just sit in a circle around the stone but put some distance between you and the stone. It'll encourage the glaistig to come closer but if you hear her, don't try to look for her. Only when she shows herself to you can you acknowledge that she's there and you can talk to her. Understood?"

Australia nodded and he walked to the other side of where Scotland was sitting, sitting down cross-legged and facing away from the stone. England looked at Scotland a bit uncertainly. He could honestly admit that he was nervous about the whole thing. Scotland must have felt that England wasn't completely at ease.

He leaned forward and patted England's shoulder comfortingly, saying encouragingly, "England, you have nothing to worry about. A glaistig is absolutely harmless, she'll do no harm to us. Her kind is only on the list because of her abilities in magic but other than that, the chances of meeting a hostile glaistig is almost impossible. Glaistigs like children though so she might touch your head or hug you. If she does that, don't panic. Just call out and we'll come over to check. Alright?"

England nodded uncertainly, still not completely convinced. He walked away from Scotland and sat down in their "circle", facing away from the hollowed-out stone. England inhaled deeply and reminded himself that the creature they were meeting wasn't dangerous and he could call out to Scotland and Australia if the need arose. That should have calmed England down but from some reason, he still felt restless.

About ten minutes passed in silence, all three nations sitting quietly on the cold hard ground and waiting for the glaistig to appear. England was becoming convinced that his mind was playing him tricks, making him hear sounds that sounded like footsteps, breathing and even swishing. The sounds were so small and indistinguishable, England was certain that his mind was making them up to scare himself further.

It annoyed England as he was getting sick of feeling so nervous and restless. Couldn't his mind let him relax for once! England closed his eyes tightly and tried drowning out the sounds. It wasn't easy because the wind was blowing and whistling, making it doubly difficult for England to distinguish between real and imagined sounds.

Suddenly England felt something brush his hair lightly. It was so light that England tried convincing himself that it had just been the wind. There was nothing else, England didn't hear anything!

A few excruciating minutes passed and England jumped when he felt another light brush on his hair. England opened his eyes but was afraid to look up. When he felt literally a hand stroke his head, England looked up to see who it was.

An unfamiliar young woman was looking at him overhead. She had long blonde her and her skin was grayish white. She smiled gently at England and she brushed a few locks out of England's face. She had been sitting behind England for God knows how long, how did England not even feel her warmth?!

When the glaistig seemed to shift closer to England, he called out fearfully, "Scotland, Australia! She's here!"

The glaistig sighed sadly, "Why do you fear me so child? I haven't caused you any pain and I even approached you carefully. Yet you still panicked?" She looked up to face Scotland and Australia who had both hurried over to England when they heard him call out.

"Hello glaistig, I hope you enjoyed the milk," Scotland greeted in a friendly manner while Australia stared at her with suspicious eyes.

Seeming to ignore the suspicious glare, she answered sweetly, "I thank you graciously for the milk, it was delicious. I am supposing you want my help for something though, assuming that you didn't bring your younger brother and your friend here just to pay a visit to me."

"We're here because we want to hear your advice on a dark voice that England has within his head," Australia explained, still looking at her rather warily. For some strange reason, the glaistig seemed to exude an uncomfortable aura that seemed to be telling both England and Australia to be wary of her. England couldn't explain it really, his instincts just seemed to be riled up by her presence and was constantly urging him to move away from the glaistig's hands. She did have unusually long nails and England wasn't certain if he had spotted sharp canine teeth when she smiled at him.

Made curious by Australia's words, the glaistig listened closely as Scotland explained the rest of the situation to her. When she had heard everything she needed to hear, she stood up and motioned for England to stand up as well. He stood up slowly, turning to face her hesitantly. She was extremely tall, even taller than Scotland and Australia. He couldn't believe that that was possible.

The glaistig smiled sweetly at him and said, "Don't worry dear, I won't hurt you. I just want to see if I can identify the dark voice within you as something that may have been connected to my kind in the past." She bent down and held England's shoulder with one hand as she pressed the thumb and the index finger of her right hand against England's forehead.

England briefly felt her presence before the sensation melted away. After a minute of silence, the glaistig pull away from England and removed her hand from his forehead. She looked at Scotland and shook head sorrowfully, "I apologise Scotland, but I can't identify the presence in your brother's head. It isn't of our magic, that much is certain. I am sorry that I can't help you further."

"You already helped us by telling us this. Thank you glaistig," Scotland thanked the female fae earnestly.

She smiled at him in response and she suggested, "Perhaps try picking out a common theme that you often find in the dark voice's words and track down the culprit based on that knowledge. It may lead you to the culprit quicker."

Scotland nodded, "We'll try that out then." The glaistig's smile became happier and she turned to leave. She looked back at England and Australia and saw that both nations were looking at her as if they were trying to figure out why she was so tall. The glaistig grasped the hem of her dress and lifted it up a bit, revealing to the nations a pair of dark brown goat legs.

Australia immediately jumped back in surprise, having not expected that sight at all. England was more frozen in his place in shock.

The glaistig explained with a small laugh, "To answer your question why I am so tall. Farewell my dears!" She suddenly turned into mist and was carried away by the wind, disappearing completely. All three nations stayed behind in silence.

Then Scotland turned to look at Australia and England and found that they seemed a lot more relaxed now that the glaistig had left. Scotland smiled crookedly as he clarified to them, "The reason why you two felt so uneasy around her is because she has a dual personality. She can be either a benign or malign creature. Luckily we caught her on a good day."

"What happens when she's a malign creature?" England inquired uneasily, not certain that he wanted to really know the answer.

Scotland shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant, "Oh, she just lures men back to her lair and drinks their blood if she thinks they have beautiful blood… there's probably a lot of other things they do but they're known for the blood-drinking."

"AHA, so she's a vampire! I knew I could trust my feelings, she felt off to me!" Australia exclaimed enthusiastically.

"She's more of a satyr, guardian spirit, prankster and fae mixture. She's not completely black and white Australia," Scotland explained, cocking his head to one side as he looked questioningly at the Australian.

A thought seemed to occur to Australia and he looked at his watch. He suddenly asked, "Wait a second, weren't we supposed to return to Ireland's house at midnight? It's past that now."

"Really?" Scotland exclaimed, looking at his own watch for confirmation. He cursed lowly, "Shoot, you're right. We might as well hurry, Ireland dislikes tardiness." He extended his hands to both Australia and England, the two of the, swiftly taking his hand as they nation-hopped back to Ireland's house.

* * *

America had been sitting in Ireland's kitchen and looking at the books that had been left behind when he had heard at 25 minutes past midnight Scotland, England and Australia return. They all were wearing raincoats that looked fairly muddied but for the strangest of reasons, Australia really didn't smell… good. There was a strange smell on him but before America could ask, Scotland had asked him about Ireland.

After the three nations had taken their raincoats off and America had explained to Scotland what had, Scotland repeated carefully, "So you're saying Ireland will be out for a few hours then?"

The American nodded as he claimed, "Yes, he's too exhausted. He crashed on the sofa the moment we entered his home. He told me he slept 7 or 8 hours but I think he slept even less than that. You should have seen him, his eyes were really tired and he stumbled a few times before I managed to convince him to come back here."

"You didn't have to drag his stubborn ass yourself?" Scotland joked lightly, an amused smile appearing on his face.

"No, I didn't have to," America shook his head but he added, "but he was really difficult to convince to go home and sleep. He was convinced that he could go on and he told me that he wasn't that tired."

"I suppose he didn't sleep much because he was worried about Northern Ireland, is that it?" Australia questioned, catching America by surprise. America could only nod his head mutely.

"Typical," Scotland sighed as he rolled his eyes, but he also looked quite worried.

"Where is North?" England asked, looking at the other nations curiously.

All three nations looked at each other and America shrugged helplessly, replying, "I don't think any of us know. Since we came out of the Otherworld, he just took off and no one has seen him from that point on. He must be hiding somewhere but I have no idea where."

Scotland looked guilty as he admitted, "It happens now and again that Northern Ireland gets upset to a point that he disappears for a couple of days and no matter where we look, we can't find him. No one seems to know where he disappears off to and no matter how much we plead, beg, scold or threaten him, he refuses to tell us where he goes. All we can do is wait until he is no longer upset and then he will crawl out from his hiding place. We won't hear of him until then."

"Is he that good at hiding?" Australia inquired, sounding rather surprised.

"Actually no, most of the hiding places he used to have he doesn't go to anymore because he knows that we'll look for him there when we find that he's hiding from us. But in the last few decades or so, he has discovered one hiding place that has us completely stumped," Scotland laughed awkwardly, sighing shortly afterwards as he slumped onto one of the chairs of the kitchen table. England walked to another chair and climbed onto it with no difficulty. America looked at him briefly and he wondered silently if England had been growing again. It looked like it, which personally made America quite happy. The small nation looked like he was around the appearance of a 9-year old.

America asked, "Are you okay England?"

England looked up in surprise and he replied after a few seconds, "I'm alright, it's just a bit strange to meet some of those mythical creatures. Some of them can be really odd… they don't make sense to me."

"Yeah, I've seen really weird ones as well," America agreed with a small chuckle, briefly looking down at the book he had been reading before. England looked over to America and saw the books that he had in front of him. He leaned forward inquisitively and America passed him a few books in response.

"So, what's the plan now?" Australia asked curiously, having poured himself a glass of water. He sat down on the last available seat, sitting beside Scotland.

Scotland answered, "I think we'll rest for about an hour and when everyone is ready, we can go and try to eliminate at least one of the three pages of suspects. I don't know how long Ireland will sleep, if he is as tired as you described him America."

"Can I maybe not come along with you this time and instead go with Ireland when he wakes up?" Australia questioned, sounding hopeful.

"Why?" Scotland asked, looking at Australia with a bit of astonishment.

Australia looked at himself as he wrinkled his nose, declaring disdainfully, "Because it is going to take more than an hour for me to wash out the smell of the Cù Sith. I've washed my hands about ten times and I still stink of that foul dog."

"So that explains the rank smell!" America exclaimed, laughing loudly when Australia turned to glare at the American lividly. America wouldn't have guessed that the smell came from a dog but he could only imagine what had happened to Australia. It did explain why Australia looked dirtier than the others and his hair was sticking out all over the place. Oh he really wanted to hear how that had happened.

"You do know that I am going to find a way and get back at you for this, eh mate?" Australia stated matter-of-factly, managing to appear very intimidating as he scowled at the Scot.

But Scotland showed no signs of being perturbed by the Australian's promise and he even laughed, "I didn't expect anything less from you… good luck though, it's not that easy to trick me."

England looked at the two nations a bit disapprovingly, pointing out, "You two better be careful or else the tricks may get out of hand and someone will be hurt as a result."

America smiled happily and he nudged England in the side, reasoning, "Don't be such a spoilsport, that's the fun in pranks and tricks. Seeing how far you can go and still managing to pull it off perfectly." England stared back at the American quietly, seeming to consider the thought.

"So then it's okay that I'll stay here to shower and get rid of the smell? I'll join with Ireland if he wakes up later and wants to continue the search," Australia repeated his request, looking at Scotland.

Scotland nodded his head uncertainly and he replied, "Aye, but then who-"

America suddenly interjected, "Could I come with you guys then? If Australia stays behind and goes with Ireland, I could come along with you two instead."

The Scot briefly considered the thought before humming in approval, declaring, "Yeah, I think that works out just fine. That gives Australia enough time to shower and Ireland will probably sleep a few more hours. I think all three of us should be feeling fine enough to leave in an hour, aye?"

Both England and America nodded their consent. America turned his attention back to Australia and he asked teasingly, "So will you tell me what exactly happened between you and that dog or do I have to fish for that story?"

Australia narrowed his eyes at America and he demanded, "Do you have a death wish?"

"Suppose I have," America replied cheekily.

Scotland laughed loudly at that while England quickly jumped down to stand between the two ex-colonies who were staring each other down, both grinning challengingly. And Ireland, who was sleeping in the next room on his couch, was never the wiser of what was going on.

* * *

After an hour of resting, Scotland, America and England set off to continue searching for the origin of the dark voice. They nation-hopped back to Scotland's country and when the three nations arrived at their destination, England looked around the hilly landscape curiously. They had landed beside a stream that was flowing quietly, barely making any sound. The landscape felt very calm and serene.

"Do you see the women over there?" Scotland asked quietly, nodding his head over to a hunched figure by a ford of the quiet stream. He answered, "That's a bean nighe, a washer woman."

America and England turned to look in the direction Scotland had pointed out and they saw the young woman in question. She was dressed in a faded green dress, carrying a dark shawl on her shoulders and she was surrounded by a pile of red-stained clothes. Upon looking at the clothes more closely, England became aware that the clothes were all stained in blood.

The bean nighe was sitting on her knees at the ford and was washing and scrubbing at the clothes, attempting to wash the blood out. Her eyes were slightly pink, probably from the crying. Her overall appearance inspired sadness and sympathy and England would have gladly walked over to her to give her a much-needed hug. But something told him Scotland wasn't going to allow that.

Scotland explained to England and America, "A bean nighe is the spirit of a woman who died giving birth and is given the harsh duty of cleaning all the blood-stained clothes she receives. All the clothes she washes belongs to people who are going to die. The moment she washed the blood out, the person dies."

"But who gives her the clothes and why does she wash it?" England asked quietly, majorly confused by that. If washing out the blood killed the person to whom those clothes belonged to, wouldn't it make sense to stop washing to stop killing?

Scotland laughed weakly, "Those are good questions and for your first question, I honestly don't know the answer. I never figured out where the clothes come from and I don't know why they're always covered in blood. They just appear endlessly and the bean nighe is constantly washing them. A bean nighe once explained to me that they have to clean because if they don't, the pain of thousand needles start piercing their skin and it gets worse the more they resist cleaning clothes. And the worst part, they can't die because they're already dead so they're basically cursed to feel the pain and be unable to escape it. So the bean nighe just continue washing the clothes they're given, they don't question who, why or how."

"That's really a sad way to continue existing," America sighed, looking at the bean nighe sympathetically. "Is there no escape for them?"

"Some do disappear when they reach the year in which they should have normally died if it hadn't been for their early death but there are a handful of them who have been around for centuries and they show no signs of their duty ending," Scotland replied, looking at the bean nighe in front of them closely. He continued in a firm tone, "Now, I will have to approach her on my own because she usually accepts three question from one person and only if the person managed to approach her carefully. She knows me so I will be able to approach her easily. Just stay here and don't go close to her. She can get angry and she will drown you if you make a false movement."

With that said, Scotland started walking towards her carefully, taking one step at a time warily. American and England watched him carefully, both nations a bit alarmed at what Scotland had added about the bean nighe at the end. She had such a miserable existence to the point of earning her sympathy and still she was a creature who would kill you for just a wrong movement.

America commented casually, "The mythology of your brothers is very twisted and weird. Everything centres around death, love and youth and just about everything is trying to kill you or predict your death. Sounds like your brothers are hard-core death worshippers."

"But doesn't every mythology have a strange aspect to it?" England questioned, looking at America curiously.

The America became thoughtful and he responded, "True, but it just seems odd how much emphasis the aos sidhe seem to lay on death and life. I think it's just morbidly fascinating in a way, although I never would want to live in the Otherworld. They make it out to be a paradise but I've seen enough things to know that it isn't so great."

By this point, Scotland had reached the bean nighe and was talking to her, explaining to her what he wanted to know. The bean nighe was looking at Scotland impassively and she never stopped scrubbing the cloth she was currently washing. England and America were now watching closely because as time passed, the bean nighe seem to get visibly more intrigued and she even looked briefly at England.

When Scotland had finished talking, England was surprised to see her stop washing and she stood. Scotland nodded at her gratefully and he began leading her back to the two English-speaking nations.

For some strange reason, England saw America's jaw drop open and the American seemed to get very red in the face. England frowned, what has he seen that made him react this way. What did the bean nighe have? England looked at her closely, trying to spot the odd thing.

She looked like a young lady, though she seemed rather hunched already from all the work. The fae was hobbling slightly, as if in pain. England remember what Scotland had said about her not washing and he wondered why she would willingly abandon her work and endure the pain. What she seemed to be wearing seemed normal… then England saw them. Two unusually long breasts that were hanging literally at her knees.

England narrowed his eyes and then he looked back at America. Yes, the American was staring at the breasts. For what reason? England was honestly confused. They were abnormally long, yes, but England didn't see anything that special about them.

The bean nighe approached them and the female fae walked closer to England, cupping his face with her gnarled hands. She looked at him quietly for a few minutes, seeming to search for something in England's eyes. She eventually released his face and turned to look at Scotland, shaking her head slowly.

Scotland sighed but seemed to accept her answer. The bean nighe looked at the three nations and nodded at the politely, turning around to hobble back to her pile of blood-stained clothes.

"Ah, it's quite unfortunate…," Scotland exhaled deeply as he turned to look at America and England, looking quite disappointed. "I felt like we were on a good track but in the end, we've found another dead end here."

"There are still other suspects left, you shouldn't feel discouraged yet Scotland," England pointed out positively, smiling at his elder brother. Scotland returned the smile though he still looked quite disappointed.

"It was worth a shot anyway," Scotland supposed, shrugging his shoulders.

America seemed to be struggling to wrap his mind around something. He shook his head a few times before looking at Scotland with wide eyes. He burst out, "I'm… I'm still… I can't understand why she has… long b-breasts like that!" After that outburst, America seemed to get slightly red in the face. Despite that odd reaction, England had to agree. But England had yet to understand why the breasts of women were larger so he found it a bit odd that America seemed so embarrassed by it. What was there about women's breasts that was different from men's? Size? That was about as far as England could guess.

Scotland blinked in surprise before he laughed loudly, "Well you know that mythology can really get unusual at times. Creepy even. Honestly, I don't know why they are so long. But there are some tales that say that if you can sneak up on a bean sidhe and successfully… suck on one of them, you become her foster child and she grants you a wish."

America's eyes widened briefly before he snorted in disbelief, "Like that could actually happen… did you actually try?"

Scotland fell suddenly silent and looked away. England moved to the other side to look at Scotland and he questioned in confusion, "Scotland, why is your face red? It's even redder than America's."

"Oh, so our Scotty did-" America began gloating before Scotland swiftly interjected.

"Ireland dared me!" Scotland exclaimed as he turned his head to look at America, his cheeks seeming to get even redder. By this point, England was just completely lost. Why was this such a big deal?

"And? Did you get a wish?" America asked teasingly, stepping closer to Scotland and nudging the Scot with his elbow.

Scotland huffed and started walking away, growling under his breath, "I am not telling you anything, you know already too much. I should have never brought this up."

"Come on, you can at least tell me if you got a wish or not!" America called out as he hurried after Scotland. England trotted after the two nations, shaking his head. He still had no idea why they were making such a big fuss out of it.

…And maybe it was for the best that it remained that way. England really didn't want to understand why the two other nations became so flustered when talking about women's breasts.

* * *

Wales and Brittany were in Wales' kitchen, discussing and exchanging information on the mythical creatures they had met and what answers they had gotten. They were sharing between them a long list of suspect but a good number of the names had been already crossed out.

The Welsh nation did feel that they were more likely to find the suspect among the Gaelic mythical creatures but Isle of Man had pointed out the possibility that the suspect could have been Brythonic instead. Mann said that at this stage, anything linked to Celtic mythology was possible.

The three Brythonic siblings had been taking turns with going out in search of their mythological creatures, researching and resting. Cornwall was currently sleeping on Wales' couch and Brittany had just returned from her country after having met a few of her mythological creatures.

The present plan was that once Cornwall woke up, Wales would go out and meet his own mythological creatures while Cornwall hit the books and Brittany would go to sleep. Brittany already looked very exhausted and she yawned a couple of times.

Both fell silent for a while, Brittany too tired to continue the conversation while Wales focussed on one book that seemed to draw a lot of attention on the Seelie and Unseelie Courts which interested him. Wales already knew that those two courts was a way Scottish faes were often classified in and it seemed quite possible that the Unseelie faes could be behind the dark voice in England's mind.

At the very least, it sounded very plausible. The Unseelie faes were very malicious and evil-inclined… they could have easily been provoked by England and the dark voice was a result of their magic. Wales noted the Unseelie faes down on the list, deciding that he was going to try and contact Scotland later to see if he could go and meet them.

Sounds of movement from the other room caused Wales and Brittany to look up. After a few seconds, Cornwall appeared at the doorway, rubbing his forehead slowly. Brittany smiled tiredly as she greeted, "Ah Corn, you've finally woken up… was about time, I'm about to pass out from tiredness."

"Sorry about that," Cornwall apologised as he yawned widely, "I just had the oddest dream… though I actually think it was a memory that I had forgotten until now."

"What makes you say so?" Wales questioned, looking at Cornwall carefully. He noticed that Cornwall was staring at him closely, making Wales suspect that he was somehow connected to this memory. What had Cornwall seen? Why was he looking at the Welsh nation so oddly?

"I'm not sure… the dream feels too real and I have a feeling that it really happened," Cornwall answered, closing one eyes as he scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Wales, this might upset you quite a bit so I don't know how to say it…"

"What do you mean by that?" Brittany asked hesitantly, looking back at Wales to see her brother's reaction to Cornwall's words. Wales was looking very apprehensive, regarding Cornwall with guarded eyes.

After a moment, Wales prompted, "You can say it anyway, though I really don't know why you think it's going to upset me."

Cornwall looked at Wales uneasily, sighing heavily as he mumbled, "Cumbria is connected to it…"

Wales grimaced a bit at that but he still nodded slowly, encouraging Cornwall to continue. Cornwall looked at both Wales and Brittany helplessly, looking suddenly very uneasy and anxious. Cornwall looked down at the ground for a moment, carefully picking which words he should use.

When he wasn't able to do that, Cornwall just closed his eyes and blurted out, "Wales, I think Cumbria trepanned you!"

A shocked silence followed Cornwall's statement and predictably, Wales became upset at his brother's words. He stood up abruptly from his chair as he angrily demanded, "And why the hell would Cumbria have trepanned me?!"

* * *

**A/N**

Alright, who was confused by the second-last word? Trepanned means having a hole drilled into your skull. Yep, trapanation is the act of drilling hole into someone's skull to "relieve" pressure and cure them of seizures.

... I'll add more later, right now I'm in huge pain and I can't do anything. :( Just know that most things I put here are factual but a few things of the mythical creatures are a bit invented or added to. Mostly just the tiny stuff. I'll explain later. See you all when the painkillers are not making me sleepy.


	48. Chapter 47

So... I haven't uploaded since October and I am really really sorry about that. Shortly after I had updated this story in October, I fell sick on literally the same day that I uploaded the new chapter. It wasn't life-threatening and I didn't even go to a doctor but I was for much of the following week in extreme pain and unable to walk, sit and could only lie on my stomach. When I recovered, I was bombarded by projects, essays, reports and all the likes from university with almost everything having the same deadline. When the workload calmed down and I was able to breathe... I couldn't write. My writing muse felt badly damaged and even though I opened my Word document every day and had it open for the whole day, it was a miracle if I managed to write a sentence or two. I can't say that I was having writer's block... I was literally feeling the story die. In my panic, I stopped trying to write and I didn't manage to write much until December. And now I finally managed to finish this chapter. I'm regaining my writing muse but since October, I've become afraid and ashamed that I was disappointing all of you. I didn't want to update with me saying that I was discontinuing and I didn't want to officially declare my story on hiatus. I know from personal experience how much that can shatter you when a story stops just like that. I needed time to recover and I took that time. During this time I got busy with dA and tumblr and I've gotten really active there.

I know that there are reviews that I haven't responded to since August and honestly I don't think I can reply to all the reviews. When I started writing this story 3 years ago, I told myself I was going to personally thank every single reviewer. But back then I never expected my story to become bigger than me and to gain so many readers. So I want to thank every single one of you who has reviewed on my story, even during the time that I was absent. In a way, your reviews encouraged me not to let you guys down and to try and get the next chapter finished and start finishing the story. The story is about 75% done and I think I will write 10 more chapters before I finish the story.

My new rule now is that every chapter will "try" not to exceed 10,000 words. That was one of the main things that were scaring me, the sheer size of some of my chapters. So I am really sorry if this chapter feels short, even if I did go over 10,000 in the end but I will never write 60 pages for one chapter again. It's just too much. I seriously hope that my writing skills haven't gone down the drain and I do hope the chapter is the same quality as the others and that you guys will enjoy it.

Thank you so much to everyone who is reading this and to everyone who has stuck around to see this story grow so big. Those who write reviews, thank you so much for being the energy and the push that encouraged me to come back and start writing again. You all mean a great deal to me and while I do still write because I enjoy it, I am going to push forward and finish the story for all you because you deserve it for sticking around for so long. I started a critique blog for the British Isles OCs of the Hetalia fandom on tumblr so feel free to have a look at that if you want. If anyone is interested in finding me on dA or tumblr, I use the same name there as here so you'll find me easily.

I really hope you enjoy this chapter despite the huge delay!

* * *

Chapter 47

Another moment of uncomfortable silence passed between the Brythonic nations, both Wales and Cornwall glaring at each other. Wales growled under his breath and took a step towards his Cornish brother.

He demanded angrily, "Cornwall, why would Cumbria have trepanned me?! What were his reasons?! When did he do it? How am I not aware of this?!"

Brittany was laughing nervously as she questioned Cornwall, "It sounds too strange for Cumbria to have done something like that, especially to Wales. How in the world did you get that idea in your head?"

Cornwall narrowed his eyes and he maintained firmly, "I'm telling you two, Wales has a hole in his head! It's healed over but the scar will still be there!"

"Why would I have a hole in my head in the first place?!" Wales exclaimed, sounding very frustrated. He added in an irritated tone, "Do you even realize how silly it sounds?"

"What did you see while you were asleep? Did you have a nightmare of some kind?" Brittany questioned worriedly, moving closer to Cornwall to lay her hand on his shoulder.

The county sighed heavily and he took a step back from Brittany before responding, "I KNOW Wales had a hole drilled into his skull by Cumbria. I'm certain of it, it may have come in my dream but I can prove that Wales did go through a trepanation."

Wales laughed sarcastically, "Then why didn't Cumbria tell me about it? He wouldn't do that sort of thing and leave me in the dark about it. When did he do it? Why did he do it? Can you answer any of my questions? Trepanation was not an easy operation to carry out and he would have needed a good reason to believe that it would do me any good."

Cornwall frowned before replying, "He trepanned you back at the time after Albion disappeared and was assumed to be… gone for good. Cumbria told me that he was doing it because you were having "seizures" and he wanted to relieve a pressure in your head. He said I shouldn't mention anything to you because it would upset you and start the troubles all over again."

"…what pressure?" Brittany asked hesitantly, looking quite confused by Cornwall's words.

The Welsh avatar still looked rather angry and unconvinced. Though he wasn't saying anything anymore, Cornwall could sense that Wales wasn't believing a single word that the Cornish avatar had said.

"Wales, I'm telling the truth!" Cornwall exclaimed, looking at Wales insistently. When he got no response from the Welsh avatar, Cornwall inhaled slowly and then sighed, "Wales, I swear I am not trying to be disrespectful towards Cumbria's memory. I cared about him just as much as you did, I wouldn't be saying something like this if it wasn't the truth. But it really happened."

"What was wrong with Wales?" Brittany questioned loudly, looking irritated that she was being ignored. Cornwall and Wales had locked gazes, each challenging the other to step down. Wales didn't want to even consider that their deceased brother would have done something of the sort while Cornwall was insistent that it had occurred.

Cornwall finally responded after a few minutes, "There was something malicious within him. It had taken residence in his mind although no one knows when that happened. What we do know is that he started acting oddly. At first we just thought he was like that because he was trying to cope with Albion's death but we started to worry. He would talk to himself too often and too loudly. He would start hitting his head and babbling things no one understood. Wales became distant and would occasionally get these "seizures". Cumbria eventually decided to investigate and next thing I knew, he was dragging Wales back unconscious and ordering me to get the tools."

Both Brittany and Wales listened intently, though Wales still seemed unwilling to believe. It was a hard thing to believe, seeing as he couldn't remember anything of it. He knew that he had been completely emotionally shattered when Albion died. He had no idea how often he cried and how miserable he had been. But all of what Cornwall had said…? Talking to himself? Hitting his head? Seizures?! None of these things appeared in his memories.

As if hearing Wales' thoughts, Cornwall replied, "That's because he suppressed those memories. He said if you remembered, you'd get upset and be susceptible to getting that malicious presence back into your mind."

"What happened to Wales after the trepanation?" Brittany questioned curiously, seeming to believe Cornwall's words.

Some relief appeared in Cornwall's eyes, at least he wasn't completely on his own. He answered, "He returned to normal… well, as normal as someone trying to cope with the death of a sibling. Cumbria supposed that the malicious thing had entered Wales' mind when he was emotionally very down and vulnerable. The thing tried fully possessing Wales multiple times but Wales was able to repel its attempts. The odd thing though is that-"

Wales interrupted abruptly, doubt still very evident in his eyes, "Cornwall, I can only believe you if you have physical proof that I was trepanned. I can't otherwise accept anything you're saying here-"

"Well let me show you the scar of the hole!" Cornwall countered, feeling annoyed at the interruption. He knew that it was a lot to swallow but he was Wales' brother for God's sake! Wales knew that Cornwall wouldn't lie about something like that! Wales' stubbornness was really getting on Cornwall's nerves.

The Welsh nation huffed angrily but he begrudgingly sat down on his chair with his arms crossed over his chest as he muttered, "Prove it then."

Cornwall complied and he walked over to Wales, standing behind Wales. Brittany followed and stood beside the Cornish county, curious to see the scar. Cornwall wordlessly nudged Wales' head forward, making Wales bend his head forward slightly. As Cornwall started searching through the dark brown hair for the scar, he nudged Wales' head forward again so that he had more access to the base of the head.

After a few minutes of silent searching, Cornwall exclaimed triumphantly, "There, I've found the scar! It's gotten smaller but it is still there!" He laid a finger on the right side of Wales' head, on a small circular scar that was just a bit smaller than one of his knuckles.

Brittany leaned in to stare at the proof and she confirmed, "He's right Wales, there really is a scar there. Of course with your long hair, it would have been well hidden."

"Let me feel it," Wales demanded, raising one hand to feel what Cornwall was touching. Cornwall removed his finger and let Wales feel the scar on his head. When Wales felt the smooth scar and he became a bit red in the face as he admitted, "I've felt this before but I never considered that it was a scar. I usually ignored it because I didn't know where it came from and it didn't seem to be a bother."

"But I was telling the truth after all. Do you believe me now?" Cornwall asked as Wales stood up to face his two Brythonic siblings. Wales bit his lower lip uncomfortably but ended up nodding, acknowledging that Cornwall hadn't been lying.

Wales sighed, still looking a bit unsure, "It just shocks me that Cumbria would have drilled a hole into my head in the belief that it would rid me of whatever was inside my head. But it must have been effective…"

"He did use some magic to drive the presence out, he said it was very dangerous and absolutely focussed on bringing pain to whoever it managed to attach to," Cornwall explained, feeling relieved that Wales was beginning to accept his words.

Brittany asked inquisitively, "What were you saying before Wales interrupted you? You said something about you finding a thing odd."

Cornwall thought about it for a short while before responding, "Ah yes, that odd thing! After the trepanation, Cumbria told me and Wales not to go near England or the Anglo-Saxons kingdoms anymore. You remember that Wales?"

Wales nodded, frowning a bit, "Yes, I remember that. I thought it was odd because before then, we had always tried to get England on our side. The Anglo-Saxons had been expanding and pushing us further back, but at that point England had still been undecided about which side to pick. He had been with us a few times before Albion's disappearance but he had spent most of his time hiding in his forest. I found it odd when Cumbria started telling me that England was a lost cause."

"The real reason was actually because Cumbria felt that the presence was… catching?" Cornwall ended uncertainly, looking a bit lost. Wales and Brittany stared at each other before turning their attention back to Cornwall.

Brittany echoed, "Catching? Like some kind of disease?"

When Cornwall nodded in response, Wales became confused. He questioned, "Are you sure he said that?"

Cornwall shrugged, "I know my own magic isn't very strong and I don't know as much as both you and Cumbria, but I do think he said that the malicious presence was able to "infect" anyone who was related to Wales."

"So that presence was also able to use our bloodline," Wales concluded, frowning darkly as he began to connect the dots together.

The Cornish avatar added, "Which means anyone of us, including England and the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms, could have been infected if we came too close to you, hence why you became distant."

"Hold on, England's dark voice can also use our bloodline," Brittany pointed out, blinking in surprise. "Could England's dark voice and Wales' malicious presence be one and the same thing?"

"Very likely," Wales mumbled uncomfortably as he looked at Cornwall and continued, "I remember that at a certain point, some of the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms started acting oddly, not as bad as it was for me but strange all the same. Lugh mentioned that England's dark voice had given up its original form… so I'm starting to think that what I had travelled down the bloodline and infected England, where it gave up its original form and integrated itself into his mind."

"But we still don't know what it originally was or where it came from…," Brittany sighed sadly. Cornwall was inclined to agree, they had taken a few steps forward in their understanding on how England may have gotten the dark voice, but it felt like they were nowhere near the answer yet.

But then a new thought struck him and Cornwall suggested with renewed enthusiasm, "Wait, maybe we can trace it back to where it came from! Wales, Cumbria said something about the creature travelling down our bloodline. He said it had to come from somewhere where the avatars in question had an immunity, that the creature could not possess them however hard it tried. So…"

"…the creature is definitely Gaelic in origin!" Wales finished, understanding dawning on him. He walked over to the table and pushed the Welsh, Cornish and Breton books to one side, bringing the Gaelic-oriented books closer to him. If it was a Gaelic creature, it would make sense why it had travelled down the bloodline. It wouldn't have been able to possess the Gaelic avatars because they had a natural immunity to the mythical creatures of their land. Being a Brythonic avatar, it tried possessing Wales instead as he wouldn't have that same immunity. Neither England would have this immunity.

"So we can restrict our search to Scotland's, Ireland's and Mann's lands then," Brittany suggested brightly, she and Cornwall joining Wales to look at the books.

Wales nodded in approval and said, "We will have to cut out the Brythonic mythical creatures and focus on the Gaelic ones then. Ireland, Scotland and Isle of Man are already out on the field talking with their mythical creatures so we should be able to stay here and try and choose the most likely suspect. We can then send our suggestions to the others rather than have them go through the entire list."

"Sounds like a plan," Cornwall agreed with a smile, taking a book from the pile and sitting down to start studying, Brittany and Wales doing the same thing.

* * *

Ireland hummed in surprise as he looked at the message that he had received from Wales. Australia leaned in and tried reading the message but was annoyed when he saw that it was written in a language he couldn't understand, most likely a Celtic language. He asked, "Can't your brother write in English?"

"Not for me, he prefers sending texts in Welsh as it feels more natural to him," Ireland snickered before he translated the message's contents, "Wales wrote that Cornwall, Brittany and he had discussed something that actually gives us an important hint to the dark voice's origin. They've figured out that it must be a Gaelic creature and Wales is now composing a new list with fewer suspects. He writes he will send me the new list when it's done."

"Oh," Australia responded, a bit surprised but glad at the new information. This would only make their search shorter and, in a way easier. He looked around him curiously at the dark field they had landed in. Ireland had woken up after about 2 hours of sleep and with Australia following, Ireland had quickly walked out of the house and nation-hopped to a new location.

The Irish nation yawned but quickly tried hiding it. Australia supposed Ireland could have slept a bit more but it couldn't be helped, they were already out anyway. Australia quietly wondered what creature they were going to meet now.

All of a sudden, Ireland sniffed the air and questioned with a slight disgusted expression, "Do you smell something rank?"

Australia looked away as he felt his face become red in response. He had showered about a dozen of times and the smell was still not completely washed out?! The Australian looked up at the sky and laughed uncertainly, "Nah mate, I smell nothing!"

"Hmm, I could have sworn that there was a wet dog smell," Ireland commented, sniffing the air again.

Eager to change the subject, Australia turned to look at Ireland and he asked, "Who are we looking for here?"

Ireland blinked a few times before he grinned widely, replying swiftly, "We're looking for a dullahan."

"A doolah-ch-ahn?" Australia frowned as he stumbled on the pronunciation. He asked, "And what is that?"

Ireland smiled as he explained, "A dullahan is basically a headless horseman riding a black horse. He carries his head under his arm and carries in his other hand a whip made out of a human spine. The dullahan rides around the whole country and wherever it stops, a person will die on that spot and it waits on that spot until the person comes to that location and then he calls out their name and they die."

Australia shivered uncomfortably at the description. He asked, "Anything else we should know about the dullahan before we meet one?"

"Well, do be ready to dodge if it flings a basin of blood towards us, the blood marks us as their next victim. Also be careful around the whip, a dullahan can sometimes try to take your eye out as they don't like being watched. Oh, and take this for protection," Ireland clarified, handing Australia a small gold pin.

The Australian nation looked at the small pin, not impressed at all. He looked at Ireland sceptically and pointed out, "Mate, I'm from the land where everything tries to kill you. A pin is certainly not going to protect us."

Ireland snorted, "Not the pin, but the dullahans are terrified of gold. Even a gold pin is a good enough way to ensure that they won't try to harm us. But keep it hidden for now, only take it out if it seems like we'll be in trouble."

"If you say so," Australia mumbled quietly, putting the pin his pocket. Ireland started walking and Australia fell in step with the elder nation. They walked silently, Australia feeling a bit nervous at meeting this strange creature. None of what Ireland had told about the dullahan was positive.

They walked for about five minutes and Australia started wondering how were they going to find a dullahan? He looked at Ireland and saw that he had closed eyes and had a concentred expression on his face. Australia decided not to say anything, he didn't want to break Ireland's concentration.

A few more minutes passed and Australia started hearing distant galloping. Ireland halted abruptly and opened his eyes, looking straight ahead. Australia followed his gaze and saw a horse approaching them at an unnaturally high speed. The horse seemed unearthly, as if its hooves weren't really touching the ground as it dashed towards the nations.

The black horse had glowing blue eyes and had a pitch-black ragged mane, it looked absolutely skeletal. Australia then caught sight of the rider of the horse. The rider looked ten times worse than the horse. The dullahan was effectively headless but the head was beyond horrifying. Tucked neatly under the horseman's arm, the head had a hideous grin stretching from one side of the head to the other. His eyes were twitching and darting around and the skin seemed to have the colour of moldy cheese.

The dullahan pulled the reins of his horse and the equine slowed down but didn't stop completely. The horse started circling the two nations, sometimes trotting and sometimes slowing down to a slow walk. The headless horseman was regarding both Ireland and Australia curiously, though the grin never seemed to fade. Australia felt a bit uncomfortable, the dullahan's eyes never seemed to really focus on them but at the same time he could feel that the dullahan was paying attention to them.

With the horse still pacing back and forth, the dullahan asked in a high reedy voice, "Why did you call me Ireland? You know that I am always very busy. Death never rests."

Ireland replied with a fairly calm voice, "Apologies, I don't intend on taking up too much of your time. I am just searching for some answers."

"Could you stop your horse from pacing around so much?" Australia requested, feeling increasingly uncomfortable at the constant pacing of the horse. It was pacing almost like a starving feline, watching the two nations with hungry hollow eyes. It looked like it wanted to attack and Australia's instincts, honed by his fauna, was raising all the alarms.

The dullahan turned his attention to the Australian and he let out a hollow snicker, "If I were to stop my horse, someone would have to die on the very spot. I see no one else here so either you or Ireland would have to do. So I'd rather let my horse continue pacing rather than schedule your death a lot earlier than necessary."

Australia frowned but didn't say anything, not wanting to provoke the dullahan. He gazed at Ireland wordlessly who continued to gaze at the dullahan in a calm manner. The Irish nation briefly gazed at Australia before silently glancing down at Australia's pocket, reminding the younger nation of the gold pin.

Ireland then looked back at the dullahan and began explaining the reason why he had wanted to talk to the mythical creature. Australia continued looking at the dullahan's horse suspiciously, the horse gazing back at the Aussie with an unnervingly hungry look. Australia shifted his attention back to the dullahan when the creature hummed thoughtfully.

"That is quite an issue but unfortunately I can't give you the answers you are looking for. There is no reason to suppose that this dark voice was originally a dullahan, otherwise your brother would be either already dead or would have the constant need of moving around and going to the locations where people are supposed to die," the dullahan declared, looking at Ireland with his ever-twitching eyes.

"That's a shame then," Ireland sighed, turning to look at the Australian nation. He blinked a few times in confusion and he questioned, "Australia, you're looking a bit pale. Is something the matter?"

"It's the horse…," Australia muttered uneasily, glaring at the horse resentfully. He couldn't explain it but he felt like he was in danger. The horse continued to stare hungrily at him as it paced back and forth and the Aussie couldn't sworn that he saw the horse start drooling even. What the hell was wrong with it?

The dullahan seemed to look at his own horse and pulled slightly on the reins, causing the horse to let out a guttural growl. The horseman noted, "There must be the smell of a beast on your friend, my horse doesn't normally react like this." The dullahan grabbed the hair of his head and brought the head closer to Australia, as if to smell him. Australia was sorely tempted to take a few steps back, he really didn't want to see the dullahan's head from up close.

Sniffing the air, the dullahan confirmed as he brought his head back on his lap, "Your friend has the smell of a Cù Sith on him… it pains me to leave my horse so wanting. You wouldn't mind if my horse had a nibble?"

"Hell no, mate, I'm not letting any equine bite a chunk out of me!" Australia protested loudly, taking several steps back. The horse let out a low growl and started following after the Australian nation. The dullahan let out a loud laugh and didn't attempt to pull on the horse's rein.

Ireland barked, "Australia, take out the pin!"

Australia quickly searched for the golden pin in his pocket and whipped it out, waving in front of the approaching horse. As if burned, the horse sprang back with a pained whinny and the dullahan shrieked as well. Australia stood there surprised, he hadn't expected such a reaction from the dullahan and his horse. But it was a good feeling that he wasn't so vulnerable anymore.

He took a step forward, the golden pin in his outstretched hand. The horse shrank back, visibly uncomfortable with the pin and the dullahan made a strange hissing noise. The horse backed away a few more steps before it turned around and fled. Both the dullahan and the horse disappeared into the night.

Both nations stood quietly before Ireland accused, "Why didn't you tell me that you got Cù Sith slobber on you? This situation could have been avoided!"

"I showered a dozen of times mate, I didn't really want to mention the smell. How was I supposed to know that the horse likes the smell of dog slobber?!" Australia exclaimed, annoyed by the accusation. Honestly, there was no way that he could have predicted any of this.

Ireland huffed, "Alright, you wouldn't have known that. But you can't wash the smell off so easily, you need a specific herb for the smell to completely disappear."

Australia sighed and handed the golden pin back to the Irish nation, asking, "So I suppose we have walked into another dead-end… so what do we do now?"

"We keep searching," Ireland replied simply as he put the pin in his pocket. He smiled crookedly as he looked at Australia, "We have still a list to go through… though maybe we should find the herb that will rub off the wet dog smell that you have. It wouldn't be much fun if you had another situation like with the horse. Why do you even have that rank smell on you?"

Australia grumbled, "Let's just say that I'll get my revenge on Scotland for his trick." Ireland blinked in surprise before he grinned knowingly, as if he knew exactly what had happened. Seeing how close Scotland and Ireland were, it wouldn't surprise Australia. But right now Australia was just really concerned with getting the dog smell off.

* * *

"Scotland, I heard something!" America called out, slightly panicky. He and England were walking in a castle courtyard, searching for the next mythical creature on the list, a cat. Finding the cat was turning out to much more difficult than anticipated, so Scotland had split off from America and England to cover the curtain walls while the two other nations searched in the courtyard.

The castle they were in was small and has been abandoned for quite some time, giving off a feeling of desolation. Like the castle America had seen with Ireland, this one had also fallen into disrepair though he felt that this castle was decidedly more ancient.

England was sticking closely to America as in the darkness he kept tripping over the roots from the bushes of the courtyard. America wondered why they hadn't just brought flashlights, this was ridiculous. Especially when Scotland told them that the Cat Sith was completely black except for a white spot on its chest. It didn't help matter that the moon was covered by the clouds. This search was not going to be easy.

However America could have sworn that he heard a twig snap and some bushes rustling. It might be another animal but you never knew if it wasn't the creature they were looking for.

He heard Scotland shout back from the curtain wall, "Do you see the Cat Sith?"

"No, I just said that I heard something!" America answered loudly, stepping over some bushes and straining his eyes to see if he could spot any movement. England struggled his way through the bushes, trying to keep up with America.

"You're sure you can't see it?" Scotland questioned, his voice echoing through the courtyard.

"Didn't you say the cat is black?" America countered, reasoning, "How am I supposed to see it in the dark? I don't have night vision."

"Aye but the Cat Sith has nothing to fear from us, if it is here it will come to us. It won't hide from us if it is afraid," Scotland explained, America catching a glimpse of the Scot on the curtain wall, looking down at them. But then he lost sight of the nation when the moon was covered by the clouds again.

America sighed and said, "Then it probably wasn't the cat…," He trailed off as he strained his eyes in the dark, trying to make out whatever creature had made the rustling noise. But he couldn't see anything and he muttered in annoyance, "Must have been a rat."

England seemed to jerk suddenly and he huddled closer to America. America looked down at England in surprise, had something spooked the small nation? The America put his hand on England's shoulder, prompting the other English-speaking nation to look up at America wordlessly. America asked lowly, "Are you okay?"

The smaller nation smiled shakily and replied, "Yes, yes, don't worry America. I just had a cold shiver run down my back and I felt something bite me, probably a mosquito."

"If you say so…," America said uncertainly, not completely convinced by England's tone. It didn't feel like England was being entirely truthful but if there was something very important going on, England wouldn't feel the need to lie.

…Perhaps he should still press for more information later on to know what England was hiding but right now they had to concentrate on the task at hand. Which was to find a black cat in the night.

Great.

Patting England's shoulder lightly, he continued searching for the cat with England following by his side. America called out to Scotland, "Is there any way to attract the cat? A whistle or something? Toy? Catnip?"

Scotland laughed out loud, "America, this is a cat, not a dog. We can't call it to us just like that. Just continue searching, I know that the cat is here somewhere."

"But where exactly would be a good thing to know," America grumbled in a low voice. He and England continued walking in silence, fully alert to pick up any signs of movement that might tell them where the blasted black cat was.

England let out suddenly a meowing noise and a fairly realistic one at that. America chuckled as he continued walking, answering, "Nice try England but you heard Scotland. There's no way for us to call it to us, I don't think it will come if we make cat noises. But that was a good meow."

He felt something bump against his leg but America assumed it was England trying to keep up with him. He was bemused when England let out another meow, somehow managing to purr at the same time as meowing.

"England, I told you that meowing wasn't going to help us," America said patiently but he still frowned. It wasn't too hard to meow realistically but this was ridiculously good. He glanced down to look at England, expecting to see the small nation smile at him. America's eyes widened with shock and he jumped away.

"What the hell did you do to England?!" America shouted, glaring at the creature before him. How in the world had a cat managed to take England's place so quickly with America even noticing the exchange? On top of that, the cat was huge! The size of a calf at least! That was certainly not what America was expecting when he was searching for a black cat.

The black cat let out a mrowl that sounded suspiciously like laughter. There was the sound of shattering glass and America saw shards of the courtyard falling away to reveal… the very same courtyard. Had the cat cast a spell on America to keep him believing that he was still searching for it with England walking beside him?

"America, are you okay?" A worried voice called out and suddenly the real England was in front of the American, looking up at him with concern. America heard Scotland chuckling as the Scot was approaching them, apparently aware of what had happened.

"Sure, but what happened exactly?" America replied, looking pointedly at the Scot, expecting the answer from him. Seeing that he was laughing, Scotland definitely seemed to know what had happened.

Scotland snickered, "You two just walked into a harmless game of the Cat Sith. It wanted to see how long it took you two to realize that the other one wasn't walking beside you anymore. England noticed quickly that you weren't beside him but it took you a few minutes."

"Should have noticed that the meows were a bit too realistic," America muttered lowly, his cheeks colouring a bit in embarrassment. A cat had managed to make a fool out of him… boy that was a new low.

The large cat padded over to the nations, approaching them slowly and carefully. It let out a soft questioning meow, staring from America to Scotland with large curious yellow eyes. The feline seemed to be questioning why they were here. It cast a brief glance at England, flicking an ear as it stared back at Scotland, eyes more inquisitive than before.

Scotland nodded as he said, "Yes, we have a reason for coming here. Let me explain…" He crouched down so that he was at roughly the same height as the cat and he started explaining their situation to it, the cat actually sitting down and listening intently to the Scot. America was a little surprised, so the cat was intelligent enough to understand human speech?

After a few minutes of explaining, the Cat Sith turned its attention to England with some careful curiosity in its eyes. Scotland stood up and both he and America stood close to each other, watching carefully as the feline approached England. It padded over to England, its tail twitching as it got closer to the small nation.

The cat stretched its neck out and sniffed England's face warily, making England scrunch his nose as the cat's whiskers tickled his cheeks. It eventually pressed its cold nose against England's forehead and grew quiet, as if searching for something.

Both America and Scotland held their breaths, hoping that the Cat Sith would find out something about England's dark voice. The cat twitched its whiskers a couple of times and its tail gave an uneasy jerk and then it pulled away from England.

Turning to Scotland, the cat let out an apologetic-sounding low meow. Scotland sighed, looking disappointed.

America mumbled quietly, "Nothing?"

"She says that she can feel the presence but can't make anything clearer out," Scotland explained to America, letting out a quiet huff of disappointment.

England frowned as he hesitantly questioned the cat, "There's really nothing else you can make out?"

The cat looked at England in surprise, as if it hadn't expected to be talked to. The feline then did a small shake of its head, looking at England with sympathetic eyes. Suddenly a flash appeared behind the cat's eyes and it sat up alert, turned to Scotland and letting out a hurried high-pitched meow.

Scotland looked at the cat in surprise, shaking his head as he answered, "No, they're not of the mounds so they're not on the list."

The Cat Sith let out another meow, sounding very insistent. It quickly padded over to the Scot and prodded him with its paw.

"Why should we go there though… I don't think they'll be able to help us further, how would they even know what they're dealing with?" Scotland questioned, frowning as the cat seemed determined about something. What it was America wasn't sure, as he couldn't talk… Catanese or whatever Scotland was using to understand the cat.

The feline let out a low murr and then prodded Scotland in the stomach with its paw again in annoyance. It raised itself on its haunches and kept its two front paws up, faint blue magic starting to glow from its pads.

"Alright, they do have a lot of ancient magic," Scotland admitted reluctantly before he paused, becoming thoughtful. He stared at the cat uncertainly and it nodded its head vigorously. Alright, America assumed that they were using telepathy. Which kind of irked him because he really wanted to know what they were talking about. It sounded important.

Judging from England's face, the sentiment was shared. How come they couldn't communicate with the cat?

Scotland looked a bit hesitant but eventually agreed, "I suppose there is no harm in trying out your theory Cat Sith. They might be able to help us further with their magic."

"Wait, who are you talking about?" America asked, frowning a bit. Scotland sounded like he was making changes to the plan and was going to wander off of the list that they had followed until now. As this was about England, America wanted to know what Scotland had in mind now.

"I'll tell you more when we're there, aye?" Scotland answered quickly, looking a bit uncomfortable. He added uncertainly, "Just trust me on this."

England looked sceptical as he warned, "Scotland, this better not end up like with the Cù Sith. No nasty surprises or tricks."

The Scot laughed, "Don't worry England, if we play our cards right, nothing unexpected will happen… just follow the flow and no harm will come to us."

That didn't sound in any way comforting to America. He stepped away from Scotland and placed himself in front of the Gaelic nation, demanding in a wary tone, "Why are you so vague suddenly? I understood we're going to visit some creature that is not on our list but apparently has a type of magic that might help us with discovering the dark voice's origin. Care to tell us more about that mysterious creature?"

Scotland shook his head, "No, I can't tell you anything at this point. We need to go there first. America, England, I am not going to bring you lads into any kind of danger that will get any of us hurt. I know what I'm doing. I just can't tell you much now."

"You better tell us more when we're there then," England said slowly, raising a thick eyebrow as he regarded Scotland who shifted a bit uncomfortably.

America was not too happy with how vague Scotland was being either but he trusted that the Celtic nation would explain more to them when they arrive at the place. Or else America was refusing to budge any further, he was not going to put England in any danger.

"Alright, so let's go then," America declared, looking around to see if the cat was still with them. A light meow right next to him startled the American, causing him to look down and see the Cat Sith almost smiling at him. The cat bumped its head against America's thigh, and then it went and did the same to Scotland before going to England and bumping its head against the smaller nation's chest. It then ran off and disappeared into the darkness of the castle.

America turned his attention back to Scotland when he noticed that he was holding out a hand for him. America grasped his hand and England took Scotland's other hand. Scotland tried smiling at them reassuringly as he nation-hopped them to their next destination.

* * *

When they landed, America could see that they were uncomfortably close to a steep cliff. Below the cliff was a raging sea that viciously attacked the rock, waves frothing white as they retracted to launch another attack. This place certainly didn't look promising. In fact it looked quite dangerous. Why had Scotland brought them here?

"Okay Scotland, we're here. Now tell us what we're looking for," England commented, looking at the cliff warily as well. He stared at Scotland inquisitively.

However Scotland was looking over the cliff, narrowing his eyes as he tried spotting for whatever he was looking for. America questioned hesitantly, "Scotland? Please fill us in on what we're looking for?"

"I want to see if I can find them, they shouldn't be so hard to spot and they'll spot me here pretty quickly," Scotland muttered in response, his eyes scanning the wild sea and the coast sharply for any signs of movement, "Hold on-! I think I saw someone but… ah damn it, maybe I shouldn't have brought you two here…"

"What?" England questioned, sounding suddenly fearful. "What happened?"

Scotland scratched the back of his head awkwardly as he replied, "I suppose in my excitement I forgot to consider that the creatures we're going to meet aren't very stranger-friendly…"

America looked at Scotland sternly as he demanded, "So what now? Are they going to attack us? Should we get away while we still can?"

"There's little point in running away, their magic is strong enough to inhibit our nation-hopping within the immediate area and they've probably started to surround us already…," Scotland answered, shifting uncomfortably as he looked down at his feet. Sensing the looks of disbelief on both England and America, he quickly looked up and reassured, "We're not in a dangerous situation, no harm will come to us. We just might not get a very welcoming reception and we shouldn't struggle against them too much."

"But with what kind of creature are we dealing with?" England demanded, not sounding at ease with Scotland's words. Somehow America had a bad feeling about the whole thing. How was Scotland certain that no one would try to harm then? He said that the creatures they were looking for weren't "stranger-friendly", so obviously they would take issue to America's and England's presence.

Scotland looked at England in a rather helpless manner, words becoming painful for him as he responded to England's question, "We're dealing with… with s… s-s-s… s-selchs." That strange word alone seemed to be painful for Scotland to say. He looked apologetic as he explained, "You'd understand England if you could remember the word… I can't say it more specifically, at least not until I have permission."

"Permission from who?!" America demanded, hating the feeling of uneasiness that had settled on the three nations. He detested the feeling of not knowing of what was going on, especially when they were going to meet potentially hostile creatures from which they couldn't flee from. And couldn't fight either. Well America's primary goal was to protect England and if these weird selch creatures didn't attack them, he wouldn't fight back.

Scotland looked over America's shoulder with a resigned expression dawning on his face. Scotland looked down at the ground again as he said quietly, "Them." America turned his head around to see who was standing behind him.

Three brown-haired men had appeared in front of the three nations, glaring at them with fierce and hostile eyes. England and America turned around to face the three men, America wondering how they had not heard these men approach them. Maybe they had been drowned out by the roar of the waves. And with just the moon's dim light, they wouldn't have seen the three men approach them until now. Both America and England stood beside Scotland, all three nations looking at the three men uncertainly. Nothing about the men looked out of place but America could still feel that something was off.

The strange humans started moving menacingly towards the nations. In response the nations backed away uncomfortably. America studied the men, noticing that they looked like typical fishermen with their wellies, thick jumpers and orange overalls. It was a bit odd, all three fishermen looked rather similar, as if they were brothers.

What confused America though was that Scotland was backing away. He knew what they were, why wasn't he doing anything? Wasn't he going to try and reason with the men? Or at least tell America and England what to do now? Because with the way things were going, all three nations were being pushed towards to cliff where the wild sea awaited them. America had no intention on being pushed over the cliff. No way.

"Scotland, what do we do?!" America exclaimed, looking to his left at the Scot expectantly.

Scotland looked at America before replying simply, "Nothing really… the only thing we can do is jump off the cliff I suppose."

One of the fishermen got too close to the American, causing the North American nation to back away while scowling at the strange human-like creature. America hissed back at Scotland in alarm, "JUMP off the cliff?! Are you mad?! You do realize that that one of us doesn't know how to swim?!" America glanced meaningfully at England who was on his right.

"Yes I am aware," Scotland answered, looking at America sharply.

"And… you still expect us to jump off a cliff?" America demanded, frustrated that Scotland wasn't offering any means of escape. Scotland had to know what these fishermen were exactly. He had to know a way out! America added, "How are you sure we won't get badly hurt from the fall? The waves are strong, I don't think it is exactly healthy for any of us to be smashed against the rocks."

"America, I know that you'll find this hard to believe but none of us will be harmed by jumping off the cliff. I've done it a few times, it is virtually impossible to get injured. We'll be okay… but we either jump off the cliff ourselves or we'll be pushed off," Scotland growled back, looking at America insistently before looking down at England worriedly. England looked from Scotland and America, staring behind him at the steep drop and the thrashing waves at the bottom. England bit his lower lip nervously and tried huddling closer to America.

That was when one of the fishermen snarled in an animalistic way, showing off yellowed sharp teeth as he jumped forward, causing England to quickly back away from America. America furrowed his brows angrily, who the hell was that man thinking that he could scare England like that?!

Just as America was about to step forward and attack their three opponents, Scotland barked, "America, don't try to resist!"

America shot a furious glare at the Scot and was about to shout at Scotland, still convinced that nothing good could come from jumping off the cliff. Scotland may have jumped off this cliff before and survived without scratches, but the Scot was a hardy nation. They were with England who was barely reaching the age appearance of an 11-year old and wasn't able to swim. England didn't stand a chance!

That was when he heard England cry out in fear. America quickly looked to his right just to find that he couldn't see England anywhere. He looked at the fishermen and saw there were only two left. A distant splash made America look behind him, feeling his stomach drop as he realized what had probably happened. Those bastards!

Scotland sighed, "I'm telling you America, you either jump or you'll be pushed. Your choice." America turned his head to face Scotland and protest but the other nation had already jumped, diving into the sea below.

The American looked back at the two remaining fishermen who seemed to grin triumphantly, though it could have been that they were just baring their teeth at him. Either way, both fishermen launched themselves at America, wrapping their arms around him. America fiercely tried punching the two creatures away but found that his arms were pinned to his sides firmly and he was losing his balance.

America let out an angry shout when he lost his footing and plunged off the cliff with the two fishermen still holding on to him. But as he struggled helplessly, America's mind reminded him of the futility of his actions. He was falling into the sea whether he liked it or not. America closed his eyes and waited for the impact.

As he crashed into the sea, the waves completely enveloped him with bubbles tickling his face. He felt the fishermen loosen their grip and suddenly they were gone. America turned around fiercely, trying to spot the fleeing cowards to swim after them and teach them a lesson in messing with a nation. However, he couldn't make anything out with all the bubbles blocking his vision. A fleeting moment of panic came to him as he realized that he might have lost his glasses in his fall so he quickly checked if they were still there. They weren't.

That was bad news for America, his glasses must have been swept away by the waves. But where were they? His vision didn't seem to suffer too badly though oddly, blurred as he was by the bubbles and froth from the waves. It was then that something strange stuck out to him. He was beneath the crashing waves but he wasn't holding his breath. America was breathing raggedly and loudly but… he was breathing. Underwater. He shouldn't be able to breath!

But all of that had to be shoved aside temporarily when America reminded himself that England had fallen into the sea as well and was probably struggling against the violent waves. The North American nation looked around him swiftly and he swam to the right, trying to find England. He didn't know if that bastard who had pushed England off the cliff had held on to him or had released him like the two fishermen had done to America. He vaguely saw a small form not far from him but the bubbles were making it too difficult to positively identify the form as England. But it looked like England and he seemed to be writhing against the grasp of the waves.

Deciding to just assume that it was the small island nation, America pushed himself forward and he wrapped his arms around the human-like form. He pulled the small body against his chest and tightened his grip. After unsuccessfully attempting to break the surface to allow England to breathe, the rough waves forced America to plunge deeper into the sea to get out of the bubbles.

Still confused over the fact that he could breathe underwater, America asked worriedly, "England, are you alright? The water… can you breathe too?" America was shocked at hearing his own voice, it seemed so surreal. What the hell was going on? His vision seemed a bit blurry so he tried shaking the dizziness away from his head.

England answered shakily, "A-a-america? Is that you?" So England could breathe and talk underwater too. Well, that was at least good news among the weirder things that was happening to them.

"Of course it's me, who else?" America replied, frowning in confusion at England's response though. When his vision finally cleared, he looked down to see what had caused England to ask such an odd question. America was so surprised by what he saw that he almost released the small nation.

If it was England at all. America had grabbed not England, but a seal pup. The only things that made America assume that it could be England was the blonde fur and the green eyes. Otherwise, England had been completely transformed.

…America was getting very confused.

"England?" America questioned hesitantly, needing to hear the confirmation that it really was him.

"Yes… you're still you too?" The seal pup asked back in England's voice, looking at America with slightly narrowed eyes. It looked odd seeing a seal talk back to him but it was the confirmation he needed to be certain that it was England. America still felt confused by his response, what was causing England to react like that? Oh no… America began to suspect what it could be.

America looked down at his own hands and he saw that they were no longer human hands: they were now flippers? America tried looking down at his feet and saw that his legs had merged together and had turned into hind flippers. The fur on his body seemed to be the same colour as his hair. Mutely, America tried feeling his face but could only do so by bending his head down since his flippers were shorter than his arms.

Feeling the sensitive whiskers, America could come to only one stunning conclusion: He and England had been transformed into seals? How had that happened? America had felt nothing at all, no transformation process. And here he was, with flippers, fur and whiskers. His glasses were still missing and both England and he were breathing and talking even though they were underwater. America began wondering whether he was dreaming the whole situation, this was just getting ridiculous.

"America?" England questioned hesitantly, still awaiting the American's answer.

"I suppose I still am," America finally replied, laughing uneasily. Alright, Scotland had a lot of explaining to do. Just what had happened to them? Who were those strange fishermen really? Why had they been transformed into seals?

"Ah, I've finally found you guys!" Someone called out in a relieved tone.

America and England turned around and saw another seal approaching them. It had red fur, immediately telling them that it was most likely Scotland. America flared up with anger and he began reproaching the other, "Alright Scotland, what the hell happened to us?! Why didn't you warn us? Why have we been turned into seals? How are we breathing underwater? Why can we talk? Who are we really dealing with? Did you know that this would happen?"

Scotland slowed down when he approached them and seemed rather apologetic. He huffed quietly as he answered lowly, "America, I swore a magic oath with these creatures which stops me from talking about them when I am near their home. I can barely say their names without being in pain. They live here and I promised them a long time ago that I would never verbally reveal their home to outsiders. So I used the loophole of bringing you two here instead of telling you about it. Either way, we would have had to jump off the cliff anyway. The only difference is that we were made to jump off rather than do it of our own free will…," Scotland trailed off, looking thoughtful. He sighed as he added, "I'm really sorry that it happened this way but I didn't have the freedom to tell you what was going to happen. I promised that none of us would be hurt in the process and no one got hurt."

"BARELY!" America shouted, seething with anger. "Jumping off a cliff is not what I'd call the surest way not to get hurt! England could have drowned! And while we're at it, where is Texas?!"

Scotland shrank a bit at the volume of America's voice but he quickly frowned. He answered, "America, I already told you that it is virtually impossible to get hurt from falling off this cliff. No matter how you fall, you'll always end in the water and transform into a seal. That's what the magic of the cliff ensures. And your Texas is still on you… it's just beneath your seal skin. You didn't lose them."

"So you can't tell us who we're really dealing with?" England asked, looking quite worried. He seemed a bit uncomfortable being underwater but his seal form wasn't having any issues apparently.

"Look at us," Scotland pointed out, looking at both England and America insistently. He reminded America pleadingly, "Come on America, don't you remember the stories I used to tell Canada and you when you two were wee lads?"

"Hold on…," America mumbled, thinking back. Scotland was implying that America knew who they were dealing with? Then it struck him and he exclaimed, "Wait, selkies?! That's the name of those seal-people, right?" If his memories weren't lying, selkies were those strange creatures that looked like seals but were able to pull their skin off and become humans on land.

When Scotland nodded quickly, America was silently pleased that he had remembered them after all. But then he wondered at the strangeness of the situation. Being turned into a seal by the selkies?

America grumbled, "Alright, that may be a bit cool but I am still very annoyed with yo-"

"Are you avatars quite done with your discussion?" A new voice interrupted, sounding fairly impatient but extremely wary at the same time. Scotland and America turned around and saw the three fishermen from before, now in their true seal forms. The largest and darkest seal had swum closer to the nations, staring at them hesitantly.

"Why're you asking?" America demanded rudely, glaring at the selkies. He was still angry at them for having thrown the nations over the cliff. Well, more specifically for having pushed England over the cliff as he couldn't swim. America was angry at them for having almost given him a heart attack over it too. Honestly, who in their right mind would do something like that?! Admittedly the transformation into a seal was rather interesting… but that didn't excuse the fact that they had been pushed off a cliff. He didn't even know if the transformation could be reversed…

The large selkie seemed to ignore America as he approached Scotland, demanding sternly, "Scotland, who are those two strangers? Why did you bring them here? How did you break your oath?"

Scotland swiftly denied, "I haven't broken my oath, neither knew of you until now. The small pup is my brother England and the larger one is America, a close friend of ours. We're here because we need the experience of your Great Leader."

The selkies looked at each other mutely, processing the information that Scotland had told them. They seem to get a bit more relaxed at the knowledge of who the two new strangers were but they seemed puzzled that Scotland wanted to meet their leader.

"So you want us to lead you to our home?" One of the smaller selkies asked, swimming closer to the larger selkie. He cocked his head to one side as he regarded America warily and then he shifted his gaze to stare at England with poorly concealed captivation. America narrowed his eyes and he tightened his grip on England in a protective manner.

"Yes, we'd like to," Scotland replied, smiling in relief as he nodded.

"How do we know we can trust them?" America questioned suspiciously, twitching his whiskers in anger. He hadn't forgotten that it was these maniacs who had pushed them off a cliff not too long ago.

Scotland looked mildly shocked by America's resistance, opening his mouth to reprimand America but he was beaten to the chase by one of the selkies.

"Young avatarling, you are in our territory and you caused quite some chaos among us as we believed Scotland had betrayed our trust. So it is perfectly acceptable that we accompany you to our leader. But we don't intend on harming you or anyone else if none of you show any malicious intent towards us or our leader," The large selkie answered with a deep voice, swimming closer to America.

Narrowing his eyes and tensing up, America prepared himself for whatever the large selkie was about to do, only to be hugely confused when the selkie pressed his nose against America's neck and rubbed against the fur. The selkie then turned around and swam off with the two other selkies following him. Scotland nudged America to follow them and the three nations started following the three selkies into the depths of the sea.

America muttered in confusion, "Why the hell did he do that?"

"It is the selkies' way of showing that they mean you no harm. They can probably feel that you're angry and afraid, so he did it to show you that they have no bad intentions," Scotland explained.

"Well that's just weird…," America grumbled quietly, looking at the three selkies warily. The large selkie's action had not calmed the American, the nations were stuck in seal forms, were in the sea… the selkies could easily attack them and the avatars would struggle to protect themselves. America tightened his flippers around England, afraid of what would happen to the small nation if the selkies did choose to attack.

As they followed the selkies deeper into the sea, America started seeing the sea floor despite the water darkening around them. Well maybe it was thanks to the seal eyes that America could see pretty well, despite the failing light. America was even surprised that he couldn't feel the cold water.

England whispered after a few minutes cautiously, "I'm still trying to understand what selkies are exactly…"

"Selkies are mythical creatures that you can find in both Scottish and Irish folklore and sometimes in Icelandic and Faroese folklore too. They're basically seals that can take their skin off and become humans on land. In most cases, they're not dangerous," Scotland reassured, attempting to smile at England but a smiling seal looked a bit too creepy.

"I like your "in most cases", it sounds very comforting," America pointed out sarcastically, looking at Scotland critically.

Scotland looked at America in slight irritation, America's suspicious attitude was probably starting to get on the Scot's nerve but America didn't really care. Scotland had barely prepared them for what was going to happen and America's mind was still reeling from everything that had happened since they had landed near that dumb cliff. He honestly was starting to feel quite antsy. America wanted to just turn around and swim away from the selkies. They were in their element and they could do whatever they wanted with the nations and they wouldn't be able to flee. Besides, they were now swimming really close to the sea floor.

And it also really annoyed America that Scotland was so calm about the situation. Certainly Scotland wasn't unfamiliar with the selkies but America wasn't and it made him uncomfortable.

After a moment of irritated silence, Scotland explained, "The Cat Sith reminded me that while the selkies aren't on our list of suspects, their magic is very ancient so they might be able to make out something important about the dark voice. This is why I brought us here but because of my oath, I couldn't reveal much to either of you. Selkies aren't normally violent creatures and I've never had any trouble with them. Their ways may be strange but they're not humans so that is to be expected."

"You call flinging us from a cliff strange?!" America exclaimed in disbelief. "More like mean-spirited!"

One of the selkies turned his head around to look at the American and he called out, "We only do that as it is the only way to make non-selkies assume seal form. The cliff has magical properties, you essentially cross a threshold when you fall down the cliff and it triggers the transformation."

"And they love eavesdropping, huh?" America commented darkly, narrowing his blue eyes at the selkie that had spoken. The light-brown selkie twitched his whiskers and he continued swimming onwards with the two other selkies.

"America, they can't help it. They have sharp hearing," Scotland chuckled, lightly bumping against America teasingly.

America was about to retaliate when he saw that they were approaching a huge rock wall that had giant arched door attached to it. The door seemed to be made out of pink coral and studded over with cockle-shells. The three selkies slowed down until they stopped in front of the massive door and it swung open slowly. The selkies entered while the nations followed after them, passing past the imposing door.

The North American nation looked behind him briefly before the door swiftly swung shut, a heavy thud following it. The group of selkies and nations had entered a large cave but rather than being completely in the dark, the walls and floor seemed to be glowing pale blue.

Shadows were moving around the edge of America's periphery vision, causing him to look from side to side to get a better look. They were surrounded by selkies and with every passing second, more selkies appeared out of the dark to stare curiously at the new arrivals. America was starting to feel rather uneasy.

Picking up on the American's uneasiness, the selkies approached the nations cautiously and nearly all of them rubbed their noses against America's fur. A couple of them even ventured to bump their noses against America's before swiftly swimming away.

Scotland sighed, "America, relax or they'll continue trying to reassure you. Trust me, you don't want to be smothered by them."

"Hey, it shouldn't be their problem if I'm suspicious of them or not. They shouldn't be trying to be so… nosy," America grumbled, trying to avoid the selkies' noses. He really hadn't asked for this. Didn't these selkies understand the concept of personal space?! Frankly, America would feel ten times better if they actually stood back and gave him some breathing space.

He looked down to check how England was faring. England didn't seem to be as frightened of the water as before but his attention was occupied by the approaching inquisitive selkies. Some of the selkies would also lightly bump their nose against him too. America looked to his side and saw that the selkies were more relaxed around Scotland. Only a few bumped their noses against Scotland's but it seemed to be done more out of greeting than anything else.

The three nations followed the three selkies into another cave, this one being smaller than the first. At the far end of the cave lay a huge brown selkie on a bed of dark green seaweed. The selkie lifted his head as the group came closer to him. The three selkies looked back at the nations briefly before dispersing, making their way back into the other cave. That left the nations in front of the large selkie, probably the leader of the selkies.

The large selkie looked at the nations critically before he greeted Scotland reproachfully, "Ah, it has been a while since we saw you here Scotland. You gave us quite a fright by bringing these two strangers with you unannounced. I can feel that you haven't broken your oath but I may need to rectify the loophole you found in the oath… are these two strangers to be trusted?"

Scotland bent his head in greeting before explaining, "Yes, the smaller is my brother England and the other is close family friend America. They're both trustworthy and they have no knowledge of where they are even. They didn't even know they were dealing with selkies until they were transformed into seals."

"So you think I won't need to make them swear an oath of absolute silence of this place?" The great selkie questioned, observing both England and America carefully. America could see that this selkie was of a certain age, it was very evident from the silver hairs dotting his muzzle and the faded scars on his body, though there was a very prominent scar on his neck. The selkie had clearly experienced a lot in his life and he didn't seem too trusting of England and him.

America spoke up, "Look, we have absolutely no idea of where we are and we'd never tell anyone about you guys. Believe me, neither me nor England will breathe a word about this place."

The Great Leader looked at the American in surprise. The selkie leader swam off from his bed of seaweed and he approached the nation slowly. Staring at America's eyes fixedly, the selkie declared, "You speak with a rawness of spirit… if your words are as genuine as your eyes, I will trust that you won't betray the home of my family. But keep in mind that there will repercussions if you do not heed our words. Is that understood?"

America, Scotland and England nodded their heads swiftly to show their understanding. The Great leader exhaled heavily then as he asked, "Now, what has brought you three avatars here?"

Scotland nodded his head at England and he clarified, "My brother has a problem with a creature in his head. It is a very hateful creature and it has hurt my brother several times. My family thinks it could be a person of the mounds-"

"But my kind doesn't belong to the people of the mounds," the selkie leader interrupted, looking at Scotland quizzically.

"That is not the reason why we came here," Scotland continued, looking a bit miffed by the interruption. "I was hoping you might be able to examine him and give us a clue to its identity. The creature has long lost its identity but we want to find out what it originally was so that we can work to remove it from England's mind."

"So the creature is completely integrated with your brother's mind?" the selkie questioned curiously, bending his head to look at England closely. The small nation twitched his whiskers nervously and he pressed his back against America's body.

Scotland was staring cautiously between the selkie and England before replying, "From what we've been told, the creature has been in my brother's mind since almost the beginning of his life. It has lost its identity and has taken on the role of being part of my brother's mind. However it is very hate-filled and is continuously attacking my brother's mental and emotional state."

"That does sound very troublesome," the selkie commented with a grimace. He reached out towards England carefully and asked America, "May I?"

Unwilling to pass England to the selkie yet knowing that it was England's choice, America nodded his head towards England and told the selkie, "You should ask him instead." The selkie dropped his gaze back to England and looked at him expectantly.

England looked at the selkie uncomfortably, clearly not happy about being put in the position where he had to make the decision. After a minute of consideration, he reluctantly nodded his head and America allowed the selkie leader to take England. The selkie was able to hold England, although a bit awkwardly.

Looking at England oddly, the selkie leader questioned, "Can't you swim little one?

England quickly shook his head as he replied, "No, I can't swim at all."

"You know, the spell that turns you into a seal also gives you the ability to swim. I think you should be able to swim just fine in this form," the selkie declared, looking at the small English nation seriously. England looked at the selkie warily, no doubt wondering what the selkie was thinking about. America was certainly beginning to suspect what the creature had in mind.

Slowly, the selkie released England and allowed him to float in the water. England stayed afloat precariously, his eyes wide with panic and fear. The selkie watched the small nation carefully, studying his reactions towards the water. He then started murmuring words that were too strange to America's ears, he couldn't even tell if the selkie was talking in a human language.

A faint blue glow appeared around England. Scotland and America watched closely to see what would happen. The glow seemed to stutter and grow weaker and all of a sudden the blue morphed into black and it started growing. A silhouette of a person's head and shoulders formed behind England and it started rising so that it towered over the small seal pup.

The eyes of the silhouette opened and America and Scotland were once again faced with the frenzied green eyes that belonged to the dark voice. The green eyes glared venomously at the two larger nations and at the stunned selkie leader. Snake-like limbs appeared from behind England and started wrapping around him. England's flippers were suddenly pinned to his sides and his throat was taken into a chokehold as the dark voice leered at the onlookers. The magic of the selkie failed and the dark voice disappeared from view, but it didn't look like it had released its grasp on England.

England attempted to get more oxygen into his system but was not managing to breathe correctly with the chokehold on his throat. He panicked and started writhing, trying to escape from the dark voice's grasp. The pup sunk towards the rocky floor of the cave and started choking as the dark voice seemed to be tightening its hold on the panicked nation.

Both America and Scotland started going for England, the two bigger nations worrying that England was going to be strangled. However the selkie leader blocked them and continued watching England inquisitively. England's breathing became more laboured and he started choking and gagging in earnest, as if he was swallowing the water that was around him.

America tried pushing past the selkie to get to England but when he found himself being pushed back again, he shouted at the selkie, "England is drowning you idiot!"

The selkie glanced at America calmly before he bent down and scooped England up. The little nation coughed harshly a few times but seemed to calm down when the selkie rubbed his nose against England's cheek whilst muttering a small spell. The breathing was still rapid but it didn't seem like England was struggling with breathing anymore.

But the North American was still reeling from before and he growled, "Why did you let the dark voice choke England for so long?! He was even starting to drown! Your spell isn't strong enough against the dark voice."

"The spell is strong enough," the selkie leader insisted, looking excited about something as he held England securely who still seemed to be trying to recover from his shock. He continued, "But I think your dark voice was originally a water creature."

Scotland looked surprised by the conclusion and he quickly asked, "What makes you say that Great Leader?" America and Scotland were now very interested, that was a huge leap in understanding where the dark voice had come from. What had the selkie figured out?

The selkie leader explained eagerly, "The spell that transforms you into a seal is unbreakable and it has always given anyone under it the ability to swim and breathe underwater. The fear from not being able to swim and from the water would have been suppressed by the spell as well. But the dark voice was counteracting this aspect of the spell and was trying to simulate to England the belief that he was drowning, to the point that your brother believed that he was really drowning. This means that the dark voice knows water and it must have been its natural habitat at one point as it knew how to manipulate England's fear and make him believe that he was really drowning. Only a water creature knows how to this in such an effective way and convince its victim."

America was briefly at loss with what to say. He looked over to Scotland to see how he was digesting the selkie's explanation and the Celtic nation looked really surprised. Scotland wondered out loud, "So if the dark voice was once a water creature… that shortens our list of suspects considerably…"

"Do you remember how you described the dark voice to me first? You said it was a hateful creature… now combine that with the new knowledge that it was a water creature in the past… what suspect fits this description?" the selkie leader suggested helpfully.

Scotland became thoughtful and then his eyes widened with shock as the answer came to him. If he didn't have the red fur, America could imagine that the Scot had become pale as realization dawned upon him. He shook his head slowly, mumbling, "But if that's what the dark voice originally was… oh Lord we're in trouble. It just had to be a Fuath!"

"So you also think that it could have been a Fuath?" The selkie leader asked, looking down at England to check if the island nation had recovered from his panic attack. He questioned, "Are you alright now little one?"

England looked at the selkie quietly and did a half-hearted shrug. He turned his attention to America, as if trying to silently pass the American the message that he wanted to be handed back to America. He didn't seem to be overly comfortable in the flippers of the selkie, but then again, America couldn't blame him. America reached out for England and the selkie passed him wordlessly back to the American without a sign of hesitation.

America asked after a moment, "What the heck is a Foo-ah? Or however you guys pronounce that weird word."

"A Fuath is an evil Gaelic water spirit and if that is what the dark voice originally was, we're honestly going to have issues. The Fuaths hate humans and avoid them at all costs and they're not overly fond of us either," Scotland answered, starting to swim back and forth in his growing distress. "I mean I've only seen a Fuath less than half a dozen times in my life and Ireland has barely met a Fuath a dozen of times in all of his existence! They honestly don't like us and somehow we must have really pissed off a Fuath for it to have given up its form and identity and possess England."

"What do we do now?" America asked worriedly, holding England close to him. England's silence was beginning to worry America but he supposed that England hadn't fully recovered from the dark voice's attack yet?

Scotland replied hurriedly, "We have to get back to the surface and I'll contact Ireland because he knows where the Fuaths live. Then we'll have to figure a way to get to their place and see if we can talk to them and perhaps find out how we can remove the dark voice from England's mind."

"Is your little brother going to be alright? He hasn't spoken much…," The selkie inquired, concern appearing in his eyes as he regarded the silent English-speaking nation. America looked down at England worried and Scotland swam closer to the two other nations, staring at England.

"How're you feeling England?" Scotland asked quietly.

England stared at the three mutely before sighing softly. He rasped in a cracked voice, "I'm feeling a bit better but I can't talk too much because it hurts."

"It will be alright soon England," America tried reassuring, smiling at the smaller nation. "We are now pretty sure what the dark voice was and we're going to track down its kind and figure out how to kick it out from your mind."

"Well first we have to find them, if they're still around at all," Scotland reasoned as he looked at America carefully, passing the silent message "don't get his hopes up too high".

The Great Leader offered, "I can send you three avatars as close as possible to the surface so that you can talk to your other brother. I wish you luck on your quest to finding the Fuaths and finding a way to free your brother from that dark voice."

Both America and Scotland nodded graciously and the Scot thanked, "Thank you Great Leader, we hope that we'll find them." The selkie leader nodded back at the nations with a small smile and he started speaking in his strange language again, causing America and the other nations to feel a strange tingly sensation to come up from their lower back all the way up to the head and then spreading out to their flippers.

America blinked and suddenly they weren't in the cave anymore. The nations broke the surface of water and America inhaled the salty air of the sea into his lungs. They were out in the open sea but America could see that the selkie leader had brought them really close to a beach. The waves here seemed calmer here compared to the ones at the cliff as they just lapped languidly against America.

He saw that Scotland was already making his way back to the beach and urging England to climb unto his back, America swam forwards to follow. England held on to the American and when they reached the beach, England slid off of America and landed in the shallow water.

America looked down at England silently and nudged him softly with his nose. England looked up at America with tired eyes, the small pup looked extremely exhausted. He started dragging himself forward onto the sandy beach and America began dragging his body awkwardly out of the water too. Clearly the body of a seal was better adapted to water than land, that much America could feel.

"Scotland, how do we reverse the spell and turn back to normal?" America suddenly questioned, realizing that they were in their seal forms and no mention had been made about how to reverse the spell. He heard Scotland chuckled loudly at his question.

"Don't you remember from the stories America? We pull the skin off!" Scotland answered as he turned to face them, the red seal grinning widely at America and England. He elaborated, "It's very simple actually, you just open your mouth and then you stretch your hands out to hold your mouth and then you shimmy your body out, like trying to get out of a sleeping bag."

To demonstrate, Scotland opened his mouth wide and in the next moment, human hands appeared within the seal's mouth. The hands grasped the teeth of the lower and upper jaw of the seal and the mouth was opened even wider. Scotland's red hair started appearing as the Scot wiggled his way out of the seal's body. The mouth only seemed to stretch wider, becoming boneless and not putting up any resistance as Scotland pulled himself out of the seal's body. Oddly enough he seemed to be completely dry, as if that didn't clash enough with the freaky image of what America had just seen.

How in the world was America supposed to do that? He looked to the side and saw that England was already going through the process of shedding the skin of the seal pup and wiggling his way out of the seal form, literally as if he was trying to get out of a sleeping bag.

"Come on America, we need to leave soon," Scotland said, looking at the American expectantly.

America shook his head as he admitted embarrassed, "I don't think I can do it."

Scotland looked surprised but he said encouragingly, "But it's really easy America. Open your mouth first."

The American reluctantly opened his mouth, feeling very apprehensive about the whole thing. Scotland walked up to America and crouched, looking into America's gaping mouth. Scotland then instructed, "Stretch your arms out and reach for your mouth."

America frowned at that and he haphazardly raised his flippers and tried reaching for his mouth. Scotland let out a confused laughter and said mirthfully, "I said to stretch your arms out and reach for your mouth."

"Those are my arms!" America shot back in annoyance.

"Nay, those are your flippers. Hmm, visualise your real arms. Think of them and think of those arms reaching your mouth," Scotland explained patiently.

Shutting his eyes, America tried concentrating on the image of his real arms and he mentally imagined them reaching out to grasp his mouth. That's when he suddenly felt something in his throat and America started choking on whatever it was.

"America, those are your arms! Just grab your jaws, quickly!" Scotland exclaimed.

The American gagged and choked helplessly, starting to lose concentration of the image of his real arms. He made one last-ditch effort and grabbed the teeth of his seal form. The choking sensation disappeared all of a sudden and America was gasping, finding himself surrounded by something in the darkness and his hands were holding on to something sharp. He looked at the end of the tunnel-like object that he was in and he saw Scotland staring at him.

Scotland's hands grasped America's wrists and slowly started pulling America out. America quickly got the gist of it and started wiggling out from his seal form. He eventually emerged out of the seal form's mouth and he pulled his entire body out, feeling oddly tingly. He brushed himself down and was surprised that he was also dry and he quickly checked that his Texas was still sitting on the bridge of his nose. Yep, just how he had left them.

America let out a relieved laugh and concluded, "Scotland, I am never going to do this again. That was freaky and creepy as hell and I don't want to do this a second time."

"The first time is always a bit unsettling but once you get used to it, it can be actually a bit fun," Scotland pointed out, grinning as the American checked himself to see if he was still in one piece and looking mystified by the fact that he wasn't even damp.

The North American nation then turned to look for England and saw that the small English nation was lying on the ground in a foetal position, his eyes half-closed. The night seemed to be finally taking a toll on England and he was drifting off to sleep. Speaking of which, the night seemed a bit lighter which meant that dawn was not far off.

America walked to England quietly and picked the sleepy nation gently up. England didn't react much apart from wrapping his arms around America's neck and burying his face into America's shoulder. He was completely silent after that and America assumed that the other had fallen asleep. America looked up to see Scotland writing a quick message to Ireland. He walked over to the Scot and he quietly told him, "You know, I'm still angry at you for the cliff thing. It could have ended really badly for England."

Scotland grimaced in response and he stared at America earnestly as he replied, "I understand your anger America but thanks to the selkies we can focus on one suspect and we're that much closer to understanding where the dark voice came from."

"That still does not cancel out the fact that we were basically forced off a cliff and you barely revealed anything to us. It was a very risky move and while I don't usually have anything against taking risks, we still had England with us," America responded with a frown.

"Ireland would understand," Scotland sighed heavily as he put his phone away and picked up the three discarded seal skins. He started folding them into a bundle.

America smiled as he pointed out, "But I don't think Wales would."

"Naw, don't tell Wales about this," Scotland hissed in alarm as he turned to look at America pleadingly. "He'll chew me out over this if he finds out."

"Maybe the chewing out will do you some good…," America wondered in amusement, trailing off as Scotland shot him a livid glare. Scotland turned his attention back to the bundle of seal skins and he walked to the edge of the water, placing the skins in the water. It abruptly dissolved into foam and was literally gone within seconds. America had watched in some astonishment at how quickly the seal skins had become one again with the sea.

Scotland smirked slightly as he explained, "This only works with seal skins from non-selkie people. The skin is created from the sea so it is only right to give it back to the sea when we don't need it anymore. The selkies are however connected to their seal skin so if they come on land, they have to hide their seal skin."

"And someone can steal the skin and force the selkie to stay on land with the person who stole the seal skin, yeah I remember the stories," America added as he rolled his eyes at Scotland's smirk. He was allowed to be impressed by something without Scotland feeling smug about it. As an afterthought, America questioned, "But why do you think England's dark voice used to be a Fuath? That's not the only evil water spirit creature you have in your mythology… so why this one?"

"Because of the name," Scotland replied simply.

"What about it?" America looked puzzled by Scotland's answer.

Scotland swiftly apologized, "Ah sorry, the name "Fuath"… it's an Irish and Scots-Gaelic word. It means "hatred"." Scotland smiled a bit sheepishly as America stared at the Celtic nation in stunned silence. He laughed, "We originally put the Fuath in our category "worst case scenario" because their kind usually avoids humans and us so we didn't think it would be likely that it would have become England's dark voice. But with the hint that the dark voice was once a water creature and almost every aspect of it being consistent to that of a Fuath… we're officially walking into very dangerous territory now."

* * *

**A/N:**

And... I really hope the quality of my writing hasn't been too bad. I really hope not, I tried my best to write well. I know that England is oddly very quiet throughout most of the chapter... well there is a reason for that but to be perfectly honest, I somehow couldn't write him? As if he was resisting and was refusing to talk? It has never happened before and while something will happen to him later on... I honestly don't know, he was refusing to talk and most of his dialogue was cut out because it sounded too forced. I don't know if this was my writing acting up because it was rusty or if it was really the character who was resisting me.

But well... we've gotten closer to finding out what the dark voice was originally. And if it is a Fuath, you're a little screwed if you're possessed by a creature whose name literally means "hatred". Firstly Wales and co. come to the conclusion that the dark voice must have had a Gaelic origin since Cornwall proved that Wales was the first to be infected by the dark voice in the past because it couldn't infect those who were natually immune to their native mythical creatures, this including Ireland, Scotland and Isle of Man. The dark voice seems to have travelled to anyone who had strayed too close to Wales during this time, which includes England and some of the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms. As the kingdoms are long dead, England was the only one left with the presence that would eventually integrate into his mind and become the dark voice.

The dullahan is as creepy as it sounds but I kind of added to it and made the horse a bit more predatory. Still led to an interesting confrontation between Australia and the horse of the dullahan. The Cat Sith sounds rather cute and harmless, it doesn't seem to be portrayed negatively in the Scottish folklore. (not from what I've seen) So I kind of saw it as being more of a fun-loving creature.

The cliff where America, England and Scotland were forced off of does actually turn up in a selkie story where a very talented seal hunter is lured by a selkie pretending to be a human and was tossed off the cliff and turned into a seal. The selkie eventually brought him to the cave full of selkies as the seal hunter had been killing many of them and had badly injured their leader. The hunter panicked that he was going to be torn to pieces by the selkies but they actually forgave him and they tried comforting and calming him down, telling him that all he had to do was heal their leader and promise never to kill a seal again. The hunter did the first part and he reluctantly promised that he wouldn't kill another seal ever again but he asked how was he going to support himself and his wife and children? To that one of the selkies gave him bags of gold coins and said it would last him for the rest of his life. So the hunter promised to never hunt again and he was released back to the surface. A rather cute story really.

The part where America and the rest had to peel the seal skin off was completely invented, I've never come across a story that describes how it works so I did a little spin on it. I hope that Scotland doesn't appear to act too much of an ass, I tried presenting his motives and showing that he doesn't always think through his plans which often leads him to situations like these.

Eh... I really hope you liked the chapter. I'll try to respond to a few reviews but I'm not too sure how much I'll manage. I just have a lot of things to do for university (my lectures are finishing this month and I have loads of deadlines and then I have to face the exams) and I have become more active on dA and tumblr. My writing muse is still recovering but I promise that I will try to finish this story. I just really hope you liked it because I am genuinely scared that it isn't good. Thank you for reading.


	49. Chapter 48

*hides away* I'm really really sorry guys, I simply couldn't write after my last update. There were just too many projects and essays going on, all my energy for the story was sapped and my inspiration to write for this story went under 0%. And I've gotten so many beautiful reviews since and I kept telling myself to have the decency to reply but alas I couldn't and kept forgetting, again and again to the point I was to embarassed to reply. Know that I've read every single of the reviews and I've smiled, blushed, grinned or even cried over them. Thank you every single person who took the time to write something and to write their genuine feelings about this story. It really touches me deeply and makes my heart warm. I would suppose the inspiration to write kept being sparked by reminders of people telling me how much they liked my story and hoped I would continue it, some of you even nervously asking if the story was discontinued.

I can't discontinue this story. Sure it will take longer and longer to update the story thanks to my university and my active life on tumblr. (I seriously never expected the critique blog to get so much positive feedback, I've had to close submissions since I got flooded by so many people wanting to have their OCs critiqued) Now of course, I can't let this story be unfinished. I just can't. I've put three years of work into this, I am bloody well going to finished this story! So it might take many months, but rest assured that I am not letting this story die without a conclusion.

Life is just being a bit difficult with all the things going on. I've entered the program Zoology and from the looks of the timetable, I will be constantly working every week from 9 am to 5 pm. And I will be applying for a work placement so that I will go somewhere to work which will give me more experience and perhaps put me into the Master's Degree program. (right now I am aiming for a Bachelor's)

But I will try all my best to finish the story. I just hope no one gets absolutely fed up with me or note a decline in my writing style. Those are my main fears, sorry. Other than that, I hope you enjoy this chapter and will await the next chapter with excitement. ^^

* * *

Chapter 48

With the morning sun peeking over the horizon, Scotland and America arrived at Ireland's house, the American carrying the deeply asleep England on his back. America couldn't help but bite back a yawn when the two nations approached the door, the night had been long and very eventful. Too eventful if America wanted to be honest.

Scotland barely managed to reach for the door handle when the door was swiftly yanked open by a stressed-looking Ireland. America could have sworn that Ireland looked more tired now than the last time he saw him awake.

Ireland hurriedly hissed, "Alba, please don't tell me you're serious."

Casting an uncertain glance at America, Scotland turned his attention back to Ireland and gravely replied, "I wish I could say I wasn't serious but I am."

The Irish nation sighed heavily and stepped back, allowing Scotland and America to enter the house. While Scotland proceeded to fill Ireland in on what he had learnt from the Great Selkie leader, America made his way to the living room where he carefully placed England on the couch. He took a blanket off the couch and laid it on England, watching the sleeping nation silently for a few seconds before he heard a doorbell.

When America had come back to the front hall, Ireland had already opened the door to let in Isle of Man. All three Gaelic nations had begun to hurriedly discuss something in a language America couldn't understand at all, much to his annoyance. He hesitated slightly before asking tiredly, "Can you talk in a language where I can follow you?"

The three Celtic nations turned to face the American as they fell silent and then Scotland apologised, "Sorry America, I was just explaining the situation to Ireland and Mann… although I don't know how Mann caught wind about the possibility that we're dealing with a Fuath-"

"I called him," Ireland interrupted, causing Scotland to turn to him as the Irish nation added quickly, "After you sent me that message about Sasana's dark voice being possibly a Fuath in origin, I called Mann so that he could come here with the necessary books."

"What books?" A new voice sounded from Ireland's kitchen, everyone turning around to see a sleepy Australia half-staggering out of the kitchen. He bit back a wide yawn, he had been probably dozing off in the kitchen. America was struck by a wet grass smell coming from him, a nice exchange to the wet dog smell Australia had last the American saw him. Australia must have found a way to get rid of the dog smell.

Ireland explained with a slight sigh, "I was explaining to you all that in the kitchen but I suppose you really were not paying attention…"

Australia chuckled, "Sorry mate, but I am dead tired. My eyes are constantly closing, it's really hard not to want to give in to temptation and sleep."

"Well at this point we've pretty much screwed up our sleeping patterns," America joked, letting out a tired laugh.

Isle of Man nudged Ireland silently, causing the Irish nation to turn his head towards him and Isle of Man quickly removed that backpack he had been wearing and opened it to reveal to Ireland the books he had asked for. Ireland nodded and said with an exhausted smile, "Okay fantastic, you found the books."

"What're they for?" America questioned curiously.

"Those are books that talk about the Fuath," Ireland explained, "Fuaths are actually really rare creatures, on top of them being difficult to meet due to their dislike of us and humans. So I've asked Mann to bring over books that discuss the exact locations of their packs so that we might track them down."

"There must be less than two dozens of packs last I checked, if other packs haven't gone extinct since. They can die out so easily…," Isle of Man added quietly as he begun making his way to the kitchen with his backpack. The other nations followed him into the kitchen quietly as Isle of Man was taking out the books and placing them on the table.

"Whereabouts are these packs?" Australia asked, unable to resist yawning in tiredness.

Scotland chipped in, "Mostly around Ireland's place, we'll be concentrating there but also keep our options open around my place and perhaps even Mann's place. We don't know if the packs have recently shifted places, but it is certain that we'll certainly find more of them in Ireland."

"The question is really to lock down on these folklore and accounts and try to identify the most likely places of where the few remaining Fuath dens are," Isle of Man mumbled quietly as he placed the last books on the table.

The Australian approached the table and looked at the books curiously, frowning a bit as he pointed out, "Those books aren't in English."

Isle of Man quirked a small smile as he answered, "Most of the accounts are either in Irish, Scots-Gaelic or Manx. There are a few English accounts but they're more recent and don't have the details we're looking for to identify a den of Fuaths."

"So what are we supposed to do?" America questioned, clearly neither Australia nor he could participate in this since they couldn't understand the languages.

"Rest up. Gather your energy. That's the best you can do for now," Ireland explained, "Wales, Brittany and Cornwall will join us as soon as we've identified the dens and then we'll discuss together what we will do next. Alright?"

Both America and Australia nodded simultaneously, understanding that there wasn't much else they could do. After such an exhausting night of searching, America more than needed to have a shut-eye. Australia didn't look too much better, yawning widely again.

Ireland smiled tiredly and proceeded to nudge the two younger nations out of the kitchen into the living room, closing the door to the kitchen behind them. America and Australia glanced at each other briefly but America was becoming too tired to formulate words.

The American made his way over to the couch where England was asleep and collapsed on it heavily, taking care not to sit on the smaller nation. He let out a sigh and a yawn soon followed, he could barely keep his eyes open. He saw Australia claim the other unoccupied couch, lying on his back as he closed his eyes.

America mumbled sleepily as he leaned back and closed his eyes, "In a few hours?"

"See ya then mate," Australia replied, his voice barely audible to America.

"You smell like wet grass," America let out a weak chuckle.

There was such a long pause following that remark that America assumed the Australian was already gone when he heard a low grumble, "…I hope you dream of marmite."

* * *

A few hours later America jolted awake, a little groggy from sleep and not knowing what had woken him. Then he heard voices, new voices coming from the kitchen… his sleep-addled mind recognized one of them as Wales'. The voice were quite loud, it sounded like an argument was going on.

America yawned widely as he stretched his aching arms, his joints cracking. He stood up from the couch and looked around the living room. England was still fast asleep on the couch but the other couch was visibly empty.

Stumbling groggily towards the kitchen, America nudged open the half-closed kitchen door to see what the fuss was all about. When he stepped into the kitchen, he saw that Ireland and Wales were having a rather fierce argument between each other while Scotland, Isle of Man and two avatars America wasn't very familiar with chipped in their opinions. Australia was leaning against a counter not far from the table, looking both tired and quite miserable. It seemed like the arguing sibling nations had woken the Australian up.

"There you go mates, you're arguing so loudly that you've woken America up, who usually sleeps like a log. Do you want to try and wake England up now?" Australia pointed out loudly, trying to raise his voice over the squabbling nations.

Both Ireland and Wales fell silent, Ireland casting an exhausted glance towards America while Wales continued glaring at the Irish nation. Wales concluded in a firm voice, "You are not taking England to any Fuath dens and that's final."

Ireland looked back at Wales and protested, "And how will we know for sure Sasana has a Fuath inside of him if we can't get the Fuaths to check him?!"

"But it is much too dangerous to bring England near Fuaths, what if they turn on us and attack?" Cornwall agreed, "Do we have any certainty that we can keep him safe from them? You always said that Fuaths were volatile and unpredictable, that they could quickly become violent."

"Yes but is a risk we have to take," Scotland argued insistently, looking a bit frustrated by Wales' and Cornwall's resistance.

"Like the risk you took with the cliff?" America questioned, biting back a large yawn. He was still not fully rested and was a bit moody from the lack of sleep. It was only thanks to the noise of the other nations that he was awake…

"What cliff?" Wales demanded quickly, looking between America and Scotland with narrowed eyes.

Scotland shot a warning glare at America, colouring a bit in the cheeks as he stiffly replied, "That doesn't matter for now, we have to focus on our current issue. Not that there is an issue really, we just have to take England with us!"

"Where are their dens?" Australia asked, sighing irritably. Seemed to America that the Australian also wished to return to a peaceful slumber… but as long as this argument wasn't resolved, no one was going to get a wink of sleep.

"They're all in caves deep underwater, so we already have the issue with England not being able to swim," Wales muttered lowly, looking down at the table. America followed his gaze and saw maps strewn all over the surface of the table, each map having crosses marked on them. Presumably those were the dens the Celtic nations had found?

"Look, why don't we use some kind of bubble spell so that England-" Scotland began suggesting before being cut off.

"Magic is out of the question!" Wales barked, looking at Scotland fiercely, causing Scotland to shrink back in surprise.

Brittany explained with a cough, "It might not be the best idea since magic spells can go wrong and you're talking of casting a spell on someone who not only can't swim, but is also afraid of the water and you want to take him into the sea."

Ireland demanded in exasperation, "But what should we do then?"

"How about…," America started saying, causing everyone to look at him. He swallowed heavily and continued, "How about we leave England outside with someone while the others go into the water to check the Fuath dens and then ask one to come out to check England over?"

The other nations were silent, contemplating America's suggestion. It was the most logical suggestion they had heard until now…

"But Fuaths don't like coming to the surface that often," Ireland pointed out sadly, "the sunlight is poisonous to them, even potentially fatal." He sat down at the table, looking thoughtful.

Brittany let out a light laugh, "Ireland, when is your place ever sunny?"

Australia chuckled as he agreed, "It think that's a good point, you mostly have bleak and grey days mate."

Wales was looking at America with narrowed eyes, turning to completely face him as he questioned sarcastically, "And let me guess, you were hoping to appoint yourself that particular person who would stay with England?" The Welsh nation crossed his arms, awaiting America's answer.

America was a bit taken aback by Wales' attitude and tone, but he quickly brushed it off as Wales being just cranky from tiredness. Everyone was dead tired after all, they all needed sleep. America nodded as he took a step towards Wales, insisting, "I think it could work out, don't you think? England trusts me so I could stay outside with him."

The Celtic nation frowned darkly and opened his mouth to say something just as he got jabbed in the side by Brittany. She gave him a warning glance and the Welsh nation begrudgingly stepped down. America wasn't too certain what this silent exchange was all about but honestly he had other things to worry about.

"What do you think?" America asked, turning to look at Ireland and Scotland.

Scotland was scratching his chin, looking like he was agreeing with America's idea. He sat down on the chair beside Ireland and nudged the tired Irish nation, questioning quietly, "We could split into groups, we take America and England with us, Isle of Man takes Cornwall and Wales takes Brittany and Australia with him. Then we can check your coasts out while Isle of Man checks his and I think Wales would be able to check my coasts for Fuath dens. That sounds like a plan, doesn't it?"

Most of the other nations wore an expression of agreement, much to America's happiness. The only one who didn't seem to fully agree with the idea was Wales. He opened his mouth to protest when he was once again silenced by Brittany who gave him another warning glare. Sullenly the Welsh nation held his tongue.

Ireland bit back a yawn as he agreed, "I think that's a plan that could work…"

Cornwall asked, "Could I actually go with Wales instead?" He looked at Isle of Man apologetically but the Manx nation just shrugged, not seeming to mind.

"Then I could switch and go with Isle of Man," Brittany declared brightly.

Australia pushed away from the counter he was leaning against and said curiously, "Then I don't suppose anyone would mind if I came with Scotland and Ireland then, no?"

"Well I think the Fuaths living in Ireland are more hostile and unpredictable so I don't think it would be bad to have an extra person to help if something goes bad," Scotland agreed, smiling widely at the Australian.

"All in favour of this plan?" Ireland finally asked, looking at all the nations. When everyone nodded in agreement and raised their arm in confirmation, Ireland closed his eyes and concluded, "Then this is what we will do tomorrow. Or more correctly later today."

"Was about time we came to an agreement," Australia muttered, sounding relieved that the arguing was done for now. Some of the other nations hummed their agreement but at this stage everyone was about to fall over from tiredness.

Ireland nodded as he stood up from the table, adding, "Right now we should all get a few hours of sleep and wake up when we're near dusk. We have a greater chance of meeting the Fuaths and they won't have too much trouble coming outside."

"Good, I'm really tired." Wales yawned widely, stretching his arms.

"I think we'll all just about drop dead with tiredness," America joked lightly. While the others smiled or sighed in agreement at America's words, Wales shot him briefly a livid glare, just for Cornwall to intervene and jab him in this side with his elbow. Wales broke eye contact with America and stared the other way, his eyes narrowed.

America was deeply confused. What was Wales' problem with him?

* * *

A few hours later, with the sun high in the sky, the household was completely silent with avatars sleeping peacefully. To be accurate though, not exactly everyone was asleep.

Isle of Man opened his eyes sleepily as he heard a timid tapping on the window. The Manx avatar stood up from the couch, yawning slightly as he took care not to jostle the nations sleeping on the same couch. Isle of Man had shared the couch with Australia and Wales while America and England had slept on the other couch. Since Ireland only had two beds in his house, he was sharing one bed with Scotland while Brittany and Cornwall slept in the other bed.

The light tapping on the window continued behind the couch, sparking Isle of Man's curiosity. Walking quietly to the window, the Manx avatar opened the curtains slowly and closed his eyes as the sunlight blinded him for a few seconds. Once his eyes adjusted, he looked out the window to see who had been tapping on the window.

Hidden among the leaves of a bush in front of the window was a certain familiar red-haired teenager that Isle of Man recognized quite quickly. Seeing who it was, Northern Ireland crept out from the bush and closer to the window, looking wary.

Once Isle of Man had silently opened the window, the younger avatar muttered quietly, "I checked everyone else's homes and no one was in… are they all here?"

"Yes, we're all here now. You finally decided to come out of hiding?" Isle of Man asked in a low voice, a crooked smile appearing on his face.

Northern Ireland pouted slightly as he looked down at the ground, whispering, "Well I suppose I have been out of the loop for long enough, I can stop hiding for now. Besides I would like to know what's been going on…," Northern Ireland paused briefly, looking up at the Manx avatar and adding, "…and thanks for letting me hide at your place again."

Isle of Man nodded, "You're welcome North, you're always free to come to my home if the others get… a bit too much to bear. I understand how our dear brothers can become sometimes, none of them will ever consider the option that I am not telling the truth when I tell them I haven't seen you."

Letting out a small laugh, Northern Ireland whispered, "You don't strike as a liar anyway Mann… but… uh, can you tell me what's been going on?"

"Alright but I have to do this quick before we wake everyone up," Isle of Man replied under his breath, looking behind him carefully before leaning out of the window a bit to share with Northern Ireland all that had happened since North had left.

* * *

England winced as he woke up suddenly, his joints aching. He let out a small gasp of pain as he tried sitting up. His limbs had never hurt as much as now, why were they hurting? England forced himself into a sitting position, a small whimper of pain escaping his throat. He shivered, feeling abruptly very cold and feeling incredibly sick.

Not bothering to look around, England pulled the blanket off of him and slid down from the couch, wanting to find the bathroom as quickly as possible. He found one door that wasn't completely closed and was glad when he saw that it was the bathroom upon pushing the door open.

He rushed inside and threw up in the toilet, not surprised to see blood when he pulled back. But he was confused. Did he have a memory during his sleep? But he couldn't remember anything! Now that he thought about it, he felt he had slept for a very long time. And he still felt tired. What time was it now?

After flushing the toilet, England turned to look out of the window, standing on tiptoes to look outside. Was that the sun setting? Had he really slept through the whole day?! England rested his forehead against the glass, stunned by how long he had been asleep. Was it normal to sleep so long? Then again he was used to short nights thanks to his nightmares, maybe this was normal…

Somehow the glass felt really cool to England. Not cold, it was as if the cold was doing him well. England moved his head away from the glass and felt his forehead. Was that a fever? Was he falling sick?

He felt a strange pain in his neck as well. England felt his neck, trying to see what hurt him so much. England jerked as a felt a wave of pain wash over him when he touched his neck. He went to the mirror, staring at himself to see what was wrong with his neck. But he couldn't see anything… but it really was painful!

"England, are you in here?" A female voice asked gently, the door of the bathroom creaking open slowly. It took England a split second to recognize the voice as belonging to Brittany. England turned his head around and saw the Breton avatar step into the bathroom.

She smiled warmly as she spotted England, laughing, "There you are, you're the last one to wake up! You slept through the whole day, you must have been really exhausted!"

"I'm not feeling well," England admitted, trying not to sound as if he was complaining.

Brittany looked worried at England's words and walked towards him, inquiring carefully, "Are you hurting somewhere?"

"My neck," England replied in a small voice, indicating at the area of the neck that hurt the most. He flinched when Brittany attempted to touch his neck. It was barely her fingertips and yet it hurt a lot.

She had a thoughtful expression as she proposed, "Maybe you slept with your neck in a bad position, you've been on the couch the whole day after all. That might be why your neck hurts."

"And what about feeling ill?" England questioned, hoping Brittany might be able to explain that too. He really didn't want to be sick, he was just going to cause difficulties for his family and burden them with it. He shouldn't be sick!

"Hmm," Brittany began, pondering the question over. She brightened as she suggested, "Maybe you're hungry? When was the last time you ate?"

"I… can't remember," England answered honestly, stunned that the thought of eating hadn't occurred to him until now. He tried thinking back to when he last had eaten but so many things had happened over a short time, he really couldn't remember.

Brittany advised, "It would be a good idea then to eat something before we set out again? Everyone is either outside in the back garden or in the kitchen eating something. We could fill you in on what will be happening next while you fill that empty stomach of yours, how does that sound?"

Liking the idea, England nodded and smiled, trying to ignore the pain in his neck or the general feeling of illness he had. He responded, "Sounds good, I really want to know what will happen next."

"Then come, we leave at dusk and the sun is setting quickly," Brittany declared, turning to leave the bathroom with England following the French region closely.

* * *

"I still can't believe how little you ate after saying you were hungry," America stated, looking at England in confusion as he walked.

England shrugged helplessly, mumbling, "I was just not feeling so hungry after a few bites. I can't explain it, I just didn't have the appetite." He walked beside America, struggling a bit to keep up with the long strides of the American. America noticed and slowed down a bit for the smaller nation.

"But still, turning down a crisp sandwich?" Scotland poked teasingly, looking over his shoulder at England.

"I wouldn't have turned that down either," Ireland admitted, chuckling a bit as he walked beside Scotland. But then he slowed down a bit and looked over his shoulder as well, asking England, "Didn't Brittany mention you had neck pain as well?"

"Yeah but that wore off when I came into the kitchen… as well as that feeling of being ill, that went away rather quickly too," England explained, frowning a bit at that. America felt inclined to point out that it was rather strange how quickly England had felt better, he really didn't look too well when he first steppied into the kitchen to eat something.

Australia stated hesitantly, "It is weird but sometimes things like that do happen… as long as you're feeling alright now, you shouldn't worry too much about it." He grinned at England, trying to reassure the small nation.

Both Scotland and Ireland came to a stop, turning to look at the three other nations. Now that everyone had set out to look for Fuath dens, Ireland had led the others south to his lands while Isle of Man and Wales led their groups to the other locations they had agreed on. Dusk dominated the sky, a slight chill settling around the nations. Everyone had put on raincoats against the cold and possible rain, hoping it wasn't going to become too cold in the night. The group of nations had come to a halt in front of a beach, a Fuath den being possibly nearby.

Ireland and Scotland both stared at each other silently as Ireland began, "Alright, I need to state a few warnings. As you all know by now, Fuaths are hateful creatures and are sometimes unpredictable. They can be hostile and are not exactly considerate of feelings of others. It might still be too light for them so I don't think America or Sasana need to worry about meeting one outside the den unless we manage to convince one to come with us. However you might see their children, the Brollachans."

"Wait, why do we have to worry about their children as well? What do they do?" America questioned, surprised at the mention of the children of Fuaths. They hadn't been mentioned until now, why was Ireland warning them of those creatures now?

"They are not necessarily dangerous depending on what your greatest fear is," Ireland replied, scratching the back of his head a bit awkwardly. He elaborated, "A Fuath feeds on hatred mainly. Their child, a Brollachan, feeds on fear. Both creatures have the ability to transform into whatever they want, but Brollachans can get dangerous with their transformations. If you fear being attacked by a tiger, you will be attacked by a tiger. If you just fear the sight of a mouse, you will find a mouse in front of you."

"Aww, that sounds a bit adorable though," Australia laughed, the two other nations not being able to help it and laughed along too. The concept was rather funny. They quietened down quickly when neither Celtic nations cracked a smile, both having rather serious expressions.

"We need you to take this seriously lads," Scotland sighed, looking at the three nations with a small frown. "Brollachans don't fear sunlight like their parents so they wander around a lot. And in a lot of cases, they will attack you to frighten you further to feed more on your fear. You can't really defend yourself as they will only become more aggressive in their attacks and injuring them is out of the question, especially so near to a den. One cry of an injured Brollachan will get you the entire pack of Fuaths on you."

England looked rather confused as he inquired, "But then, what do we do if we are approached by a Brollachan?"

"Close your eyes," Ireland said simply, a small smile appearing on his face in response to the dumbfounded expressions of England, America and Australia. To America's relief, Ireland explained, "Thankfully Brollachans gain their transforming powers from looking at their victim when their eyes are open as it allows them to see what they fear. If the victim closes their eyes for a long time, the Brollachan loses its ability to stay in the form they adopted and they revert back to their original form, at which point they can't really attack you anymore."

"But how do we know we have a Brollachan in front of us?" America asked in puzzlement.

Ireland replied, "They only know two words: myself and thyself. They can only communicate with these words, nothing else."

Australia held back his laughter as he questioned, "Is that it? I wonder how their parents understand them if they only have those words."

The Irish nation shrugged, "They don't really, it is an odd thing that the Brollachans have… but it is a good way to recognize them this way. But my main point is, you're safer closing your eyes if you see a Brollachan approaching you. Is that clear?"

Both America and England nodded their understanding, causing the elder brothers to smile in satisfaction. Scotland turned his attention to Australia and stated warningly, "And now, we three will go down to the den and see if we can talk to these Fuaths. You have to follow us closely or you might be treated as a trespasser and chased. This happening deep in the sea is not very recommendable so don't wander off."

"Understood, understood," Australia replied, nodding quickly with a serious expression. Despite his expression, America suspected that the Australian was really interested in seeing these creatures, even though they had been warned of how dangerous Fuaths were. But of course Australia's dangerous fauna did little to dampen his curiosity, indeed it might have actually made it stronger.

Ireland had already walked closer to the edge of the water and started muttering a spell under his breath, stretching his arms to the sky. A large bubble formed around the Irish nation, looking both fragile but solid at the same time.

America held back his laughter and saw that England and Australia were equally struggling to keep theirs back. Alright, magic was not easy and certainly was no laughing matter but that bubble… just looked so silly. Extremely so.

Hearing the sounds, Ireland turned around and putting his hands on his hips, demanded crossly, "What, do you have anything to say to my bubble?"

At that the three nations burst out laughing, Scotland not being able to stop himself from grinning too. Ireland frowned a bit but then let out a laugh, turning his back on the other nations as he protested, "No I'm serious, there's nothing wrong with this bubble. It works perfectly well and we'll be able to breath with it in the water."

"But how," Australia began asking, still laughing and having trouble stopping, "do we move when there is no ground to walk on and we have to swim down to the bottom to the sea?"

Ireland seemed to calm himself down and he answered, "We swim. We're still in water so swimming is possible, the only difference is that we can breathe too and we don't have to hold our breath. That's why you have to stick close to us."

"You could," America proposed, still recovering from his laugh, "create individual bubbles for everyone and then you can wear it as a helmet?"

"Yes but we need to stay together so that the Fuaths can't see us or especially Australia as a trespasser. Moving as one group, they will not immediately attack us. However if I did create individual bubbles, I don't know if we will be attacked," Ireland explained, looking up at his handiwork and grumbling, "And there is nothing that laughable about my bubble, I am even able to strengthen it so that it won't break if a sentry decides to attack us."

England still looked rather mirthful as he said, "Well that's good that you're protected… but how long will you be under the sea?"

"I think it depends on how easy it is to talk to them," Scotland responded, walking towards Ireland and stepping inside the bubble, the bubble expanding a bit as it accepted Scotland inside. Australia followed the Scot but stopped in front of the bubble, looking rather confused at how to get in. Scotland and Ireland looked at each other with an amused grin and both reached out for the Australian, grasping his wrists and pulling him into the bubble. Australia slipped in without a problem, the bubble expanding itself again at the third addition.

The three nations turned their attention to America and England and Ireland stated hopefully, "It shouldn't take us more than 20 minutes, we should be back by then. Remember my warning about the Brollachans, alright?"

Both America and England nodded and the three nations began walking into the sea, the bubble following them. Soon the sea had swallowed the three nations and America let out a snort, chuckling, "But that bubble is really funny, isn't it?"

"It isn't the first you'd think of if you wanted to go under the sea," England chortled, his eyes full of merriment. A harsh wind blew against them, causing both English-speaking nations to shiver at the sudden cold. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon and America hoped that the three nations weren't going to take too long under the sea. America and England settled on the sand and waited patiently.

They didn't have to wait long.

After 10 minutes America saw bubbles appearing at the surface and suddenly Ireland, Scotland and Australia broke the surface of the water. The bubble oddly enough kept its shape and continued following them as the three nations made their way to the beach. Only when they were fully out did Ireland snap his fingers and the bubble popped out of existence.

Australia sighed, "Well that was a long journey for nothing…"

"What happened?" England asked as he stood up, walking towards the three nations. America stood up too, brushing the sand off his legs.

"The den was empty," Scotland replied, shrugging his shoulder with a not too surprised expression. It was as if he had somehow expected this to be the case.

"To be more correct, the pack of Fuaths who used to live here died… for what reason we will likely never know but we can safely assume this pack to be extinct," Ireland added, taking a piece of paper out and crossing out something with a pen.

"So what now?" America questioned, joining the other nation as they gathered together to find out what was next on the list.

Ireland looked at the other nations and cracked a lopsided smile, laughing lightly, "Oh this isn't the end, we still have about 11 other dens to check tonight. Hopefully they won't be all empty like this one but we have no other way to know other than go there. The next den is northwards, quite close to Northern Ireland. We'll go there now."

With that said, Ireland placed his piece of paper back in one pocket of his raincoat and walked past the other nations, looking behind him. America and the others began following Ireland as they were led to the next location. Hopefully they'd get luckier with the second Fuath den.

* * *

"So keep in mind what we told you about what to do if you meet a Brollachan, yes?" Scotland looked at America and England, his eyes staring at the two seriously. They had landed on another beach, this one not far from Northern Ireland's border and Ireland and Australia were already at the edge of the water, the Irish nation conjuring up the bubble again.

America grinned and reassured, "Don't worry Scotland, we got you. We know what to do if we bump into them, although hopefully nothing will happen." England nodded his agreement with America's words.

Scotland gave the two nations a small chuckle before turning to join Ireland and Australia in the bubble. Ireland called out, "We'll see you in a short while if all goes well!" The three nations turned to the face the sea and strode into the water, the sea swallowing them whole.

After a moment, England asked worriedly, "What if this den is empty too like the last one? Are all dens going to be empty?" England sat down on the sand, shivering a bit at the chilly air.

"Hey, just because the first den was empty doesn't mean the others will be empty too. We simply didn't have luck with the first one, doesn't mean it will be the same with other dens," America reassured, sitting down beside England. He wrapped his arm around England's shoulder and pulled him closer to America's side so that he might not be so cold.

England looked up at America and gave him a small smile, his gaze falling down to the waves that lazily lapped at the shore. The sun was halfway down the horizon and the air was decidedly going to become colder. But the two nations waited patiently for the three others to come back.

And they waited.

They waited.

About half an hour passed and America and England still waited.

When 45 minutes had passed, worry began settling on the two. This was taking a long time and neither had an idea what the holdup was. It was certain they had found something down there or else they wouldn't be taking so long…

America suddenly jerked when he saw a black fog beginning to envelop them. It wasn't normal fog, it was literally black. England was starting to look around for the origin of the fog, clearly uncomfortable.

**Myself thyself…**

America and England both started at the voice and jumped to their feet, looking around to see where the voice had come from. England abruptly fell against America with a gasp of fear and America looked up to see what had frightened England.

An all too familiar figure stood in front of the two nations, grinning at them in a twisted manner and eyes glowing green… the dark voice. Had it taken physical form outside England's mind now?!

No wait! America mentally berated himself for not immediately realizing it. This was a Brollachan, they had been warned of that! It had just said the two only words that it could say! This wasn't the real dark voice! Looking down at England, America realized that he was the only one thinking rationally.

In England's wide eyes there was only blind panic, the poor nation was trembling in fear at the sight of his dark voice outside of his mind. Of course that was going to be England's greatest fear, he was probably too scared to even think straight.

America went down on his knees and placed one hand on England's eyes and with his other hand gently pushed England down into a sitting position. America closed his eyes as well as he quietly comforted England, "It's just a Brollachan England, it's not the real thing. This is not really dark voice, just a Brollachan."

The other nation was still trembling and was breathing through his nose shallowly, clearly not completely out of his panic. The Brollachan seemed to prowl around the two nations, hissing loudly and darkly muttering "myself thyself" again and again. But America and England kept their eyes stubbornly closed and the Brollachan finally let out a whine of disappointment.

However there was another splashing sound and America heard a second creature join them… was that another Brollachan? Ha well good luck, it was going to have as much luck in scaring them as the first one had. There was a lot of hissing now and a low whine seemed to come from the Brollachan closest to them, the first one.

After a few exchanges, the Brollachan near them moved away and America heard the water splash again, was the first Brollachan going back into the sea? Now only the second Brollachan remained and it growled a few times, moving around the two nations and letting out a few huffs. Somehow America felt that this Brollachan was bigger and heavier than the first one…

Hands wrapped around England and started pulling him away from America. America jerked in surprise and wrapped his arms around England, stopping the other from effectively yanking him away.

"No you can't take him!" America growled lowly, hoping he wasn't suffocating England in his grip but at the same time he was utterly terrified of what would happen if the creature did actually manage to snatch England and jump back into the sea with him.

The American was shocked to hear the other creature snap curtly, "I sense a Fuath, let me have a look at him!" Had the Brollachan just talked?! And was demanding to look at England more closely? What was going on?

When America opened his eyes slowly, he saw a strange creature standing in front of them. It was a green humanoid creature that looked rather feminine, having a yellow mane going down her back and had webbed toes and hands, a tail with spikes and no nose. She was wearing a dark green robe and had reptilian golden eyes staring at the nations unflinchingly. Quite frankly, America found her terrifying.

"Who are you?" America blurted out without thinking, staring at the alarming creature with wariness. Just for extra care he didn't relax his grip around England.

"Banríon," the creature replied stiffly, a high reedy voice coming out of her. Her eyes continued to watch the nations carefully, as if trying to figure out where they came from.

"Banreen?" America and England both echoed, looking each other in puzzlement. That certainly was a name they had never heard before. But then America simply shrugged. It had to be one of those strange Irish names that no one ever heard of.

The creature bared her sharp teeth, though that might have been her just smiling. She chuckled darkly, "Ah, from how you two have pronounced it, neither of you are Irish speakers."

"What are you?" England asked quietly, looking at the creature oddly.

"I am a Fuath," Banreen answered, narrowing her eyes at England. She then demanded, "What are two nations like you two doing here so close to the Fuaths' den?"

America was honestly surprised. That creature knew what they were?

England questioned hurriedly, "We are waiting on three other nations who are in your den, two of them are my brothers. Have you seen them? How much longer will they be down there?"

Banreen shrugged, letting out a strange hissing noise, "I haven't heard anything about three nations being down there, I am just returning to my den from a hunt. I personally haven't seen them. But answer me this question, small fair child." The Fuath approached the two nations, staring fixedly at England. She slowly reached out with a clawed hand, tilting England's head upwards to have a good look at his face.

America tensed up, ready to yank England out of harm's way but worried about the long talon-like nails under the smaller nation's chin. She could easily injure England with those.

After staring at him for a moment, Banreen asked, "Can you sense some kind of familiarity towards me? Your eyes show that you have seen me, or at least you recognize my eyes."

England hesitated a few seconds before admitting, "Your eyes… I have seen them before. Not exactly your eyes but ones very similar. I don't remember where, it feels like from a dream…"

Banreen frowned as she moved her hand away from England's chin and laid one nail on his forehead, her eyes narrowed in concentration. Sounding rather perplexed, she declared, "That's why I tried taking you at first, I could have sworn that I felt a Fuath… I wasn't mistaken, I can feel traces of a Fuath within you. How it came there I am not certain."

"Wait, did you just confirm the dark voice was a Fuath originally?!" America exclaimed, so surprised that he relaxed his grip on England and stared at the Fuath with a dumbfounded expression. Taking advantage of the lapse of attention from the American, Banreen wrapped her hands around England's wrists and pulled him upright, away from America's grasp.

The American tensed his muscles up, fearing that the Fuath was trying to pull England into the water. He stood up just in case the worst happened. But she let go of England and walked around him, studying him with sharp eyes. She stopped in front of him again, placing a hand on top of England's head and became thoughtful.

"A… dark voice?" Banreen echoed after a while, looking at America quizzically. She looked at England and explained, "What I feel is the remains of a Fuath, she is deeply embedded in this child's mind. I even know who it was… ahh poor Bronagh, is this where you have been all this time?"

"She?" America repeated slowly, uncertain he had heard right?

"The dark voice is called Bronagh?" England questioned, shocked at this news. The voice had never sounded like that of a female… then again… maybe it was using his voice to talk to England?

Banreen did an upwards jerk with her head, as if nodding, "That was her name, though not much of her remains in your mind, if anything at all. Just small fragments… but maybe memories from her last moments are still hidden away somewhere. Can you let me dig them out?"

England nodded uncertainly while America warned, "Depends on what you have to do to get to those memories, but alright."

The Fuath grinned as she explained, "I need the small nation to come close to the water, this is the only way I know how to get to memories."

"But I can't swim!" England protested, looking at Banreen with wide, fearful eyes.

"You just need to be by the water, not in," the Fuath elaborated impatiently, reaching out to grab England's arm. America moved closer to England, glaring at Banreen warningly. She stared back at the American evenly, grasping England's arm and pulling him towards the water's edge. She then focussed on the smaller nation and extended his arm outwards over the water.

Using a razor-sharp nail, Banreen quickly nicked England's wrist, cutting into the skin. England briefly went rigid at the sudden pain as blood trickled out of the cut and fell into the water as droplets.

"Hey, what are you doing?!" America demanded, stunned that the Fuath had done this and angry that he had allowed this strange creature to injure England.

"Oh calm down you sentimental fool, it is just a small cut," Banreen sighed, watching England's blood fall into the water intently. "You nations heal quickly anyway so it should barely hurt."

England shakily asked, "Usually it should have closed by now… it stings a bit. How much do you need?"

"Just a few more drops," Banreen murmured, seeming to count the amount the droplets. She added, "I did put a little spell to keep the wound open a bit longer so that I can get enough blood."

America wrinkled his nose in distaste, angered that Banreen hadn't warned England and America that she was going to need blood from England and then just cut his wrist. The drops of blood continued falling, strangely enough not diluting in the water but instead spreading. Soon it looked like a small pool of blood had formed in front of them, the waves of the sea having no effect on the colour. It stayed firmly red.

Banreen pulled England's wrist towards her and with a flick of her long tongue, licked the cut and released England's wrist. America watched in astonishment as the cut seemed to immediately close, leaving no mark behind. Banreen was staring transfixed at the bloodied water, prowling towards the edge of the sea and slipping into the water with ease. She dove under the water, reappearing in the middle of the red pool, covered completely in blood.

The Fuath closed her eyes, starting to murmur words that were incomprehensible to both America and England but the blood started glowing darkly. England suddenly jolted with a gasp and fell to his knees, panting for breath.

"What the hell is happening to England?!" America shouted, glowering at Fuath furiously, sure that she had something to do with what was happening to England. The creature opened her eyes and stared back at America evenly.

Banreen rolled her eyes in exasperation and assured, "I'm just accessing his memories, it will affect England to have an outside force going for his memories inside his mind." As she explained, moving pictures started appear on the surface of the bloodied water, no doubt memories. America leaned forward to inspect them, recognizing some of the recent memories though it was rather odd to see them from England's perspective.

America straightened up and said sharply, "Well give a heads up or something, so that we at least know what to expect next. We work better when we know what is going to happen next."

"Fine then, I will," the Fuath sighed in exasperation, looking down at the red water to watch some of the memories too. She added, "Once the little one is used to my presence in his mind, I will dig lower into the fragment of Bronagh to find her memories… since she is buried in the nation's subconsciousness, he will probably pass out for a few minutes."

"At least you gave a warning…," America grumbled, glancing worriedly at England. Was it alright for the Fuath to dig so deep? Would it damage England to have the Fuath dig into his subconsciousness?

"H-hey," England began shakily, pointing at one picture in particular that had a lot of fire in it, "I saw that memory not too long ago, it was the strangest memory since I was barely in it, I was able to see the memory from different people's view. It was a bit confusing."

Banreen frowned, "You say this memory allowed you to see from different people's point of view?" When England nodded, Banreen concluded, "Then it is an artificial memory."

"As opposed to… natural memories?" America asked, sounding confused. How could a memory be artificial?

"The memory is completely invented, it never happened," the Fuath explained as she swam nearer to the memory England had pointed out, hovering her webbed hand over the picture. "A nightmare cleverly constructed to feel like a memory… yes, it is artificial. Bronagh created it and implanted it into some of your siblings' minds so as to cause emotional pain to them, making it easier to see who was emotionally the least stable."

"But why?" England demanded as he stared at Banreen.

"To…possess?" America proposed warily, fearing that this was most likely the reason. His gut twisted uncomfortably when Banreen nodded.

"If one of them was already unstable, her memory was able to cause that one even more distress and she would have been able to possess him without any real resistance. But…," Banreen trailed off, her hand still hovering over the memory. The memory had changed and America was able to see Wales as a young avatar and another young avatar he couldn't recognize. She continued, "It seems like one of the siblings caught on quicker and saw that Wales had been possessed and he took the necessary means to drive Bronagh out. Her next reaction was to… jump down the line, and she found you."

England was staring at the Fuath tiredly, sitting calmly on his knees as he became thoughtful. Banreen returned the stare for a moment before she dove under the water and was gone. America and England glanced at where she had disappeared, England declaring, "So I will become unconscious right very soon?"

"You think so?" America questioned quizzically. Wouldn't she have warned them?

"Yes, you notice that she's not very good at giving us forewarnings?" England pointed out, letting out a weak laugh. Before America can reply, England's body became rigid and his eyes widened. He fell on his side and curled up in a ball, dry heaving heavily.

America panicked as he bent down to scrutinize England, laying a hand on his chest to check if the heart was still beating normally. The heart was going a little too quickly and England's breaths were short and ragged. His eyes had become blank and shadows were moving around slowly, reminding America of when England would get pulled into a memory.

Maybe England had been pulled into a memory?

* * *

_England opened his eyes wide, gasping for air a bit as he tried understanding what had happened. He couldn't understand the world he had landed in. Everything was black and white and England felt like he was swimming in water. He looked down at his hand and panicked when he saw webbed hands and they were in cold colours. _

_He looked around and saw small shapes with warm colours… like he was seeing things in thermal imaging. England stared back at his hands, waving them back and forth to see if those were really his hands._

"_Don't panic nation, you are in Bronagh's memory so you're seeing it through her eyes," Banreen sighed, her disembodied voice echoing in England's mind. _

_England glanced around, trying to see her. "Where are you?" He called out. _

"_A part of me is in your mind but it isn't enough for you to see me," the Fuath replied. "If I tried putting myself in your mind more to the point that you can see me, the chances of me getting stuck in your subconsciousness rises and neither of us would like the idea of another Fuath getting embedded here. Wouldn't you agree?"_

_The small nation nodded, he was more at ease at keeping Banreen as a disembodied voice rather than having her get stuck in his mind. He asked nervously, "Do Fuaths see the world through thermal imaging?"_

"_Fuaths always saw the world like this?" Banreen replied, clearly uncertain about what "thermal imaging" was. England decided to assume that Fuaths saw the world in warm and cold temperatures, which he found rather odd . What he found odder is that he remembered what thermal imaging was… was he starting to regain pieces of information without having to go into memories anymore? _

_Suddenly Bronagh surfaced out of the water, looking around for something. England felt a tinge of nervousness from the Fuath, as if she was worried about something. He then saw not too far from them three forms, one big form and two smaller forms._

_Although he narrowed his eyes, England had a hard time trying to make out what Bronagh was seeing. Suddenly there was a soft flash in his mind and for a brief moment, he saw everything as he usually did. He took the chance to see what was going on: he saw two young-looking avatars and a large dragon… they seemed to be having a fight. He caught a brief glance of ginger hair on one avatar and red hair on the other… was he seeing young Ireland and young Scotland?_

_Before England could confirm what he saw, his vision went back to thermal imaging. He heard the amused chuckle from Banreen as she explained, "My kind does see better in your method but unfortunately our eyes are suited for seeing warm and cold colours. We can only see like you for a few seconds, which is why we depend on our sense of smell to understand what is going on." _

_England felt distress boiling up in Bronagh, prompting him to ask Banreen, "Why is Bronagh feeling like this? Why is she worried?"_

"_Her child England," Banreen answered hurriedly, concentrating on what Bronagh was seeing, "Your brothers are fighting her child."_

_The dragon was a Fuath's child? No wait, England corrected himself. Ireland had mentioned the Brollachans. As the parent fed on hatred, the child fed on fear. Hence their ability to transform into what their victim feared the most._

_Did Ireland and Scotland as young avatars fear dragons so much? As England focussed on the fight, which was really difficult to follow as it was colours of hot and cold moving all the time, he did see a glimpse of Ireland and Scotland attacking the dragon and embedding their swords into the dragon's underbelly._

_The dragon let out a high-pitched screech, the pitch elevating even more as the dragon started shrinking. England then saw the Brollachan, the small form of a child with golden eyes, tears running down his face as two swords stuck out from his belly… the child closed his eyes and let out a dying gasp before going completely limp. _

_Scotland and Ireland seemed to have backed away from the Brollachan, talking in confused sentences as if they hadn't expected the dragon to be anything else but a simple dragon. Then again England had been fooled too, Brollachans were meant to be good in transforming. _

_A higher shriek rose, taking England two seconds to realize that the noise was coming from Bronagh. The Fuath leapt out of the water and dashed towards Ireland and Scotland, catching the two Celtic avatars off-guard. She leapt on the smaller nation, Scotland, and pinned him to the ground, hissing her despair and grief as she prepared to bury her teeth into the struggling Scot's throat. _

_A whack on her head jolted Bronagh out of her temporary ferocity, looking behind her to see Ireland standing with his sword raised over his head. He had apparently used the flat edge of the sword to hit the Fuath on her head. Bronagh opened her mouth to bare her teeth before she felt something within her snap._

_England didn't know what happened but suddenly the Fuath was falling forward, her spirit still wailing over her loss of her child. As the emptied and lifeless body of the Fuath fell on top of Scotland, Bronagh's spirit fervently dug her way into Scotland, trying to possess him. However an unknown force kept pushing her away, not allowing her any control. _

_The small nation found himself attached to Bronagh's spirit, feeling rather scared by the torrent of grief and rage that was within the Fuath's spirit. England heard a faint voice hissing in the darkness, "I need to find someone else, someone to pay these bastards for taking away my most treasured child. Take away what they have taken from me…"_

_The voice soon was lost among hissing and growling and England was surprised that he managed to hear a distant Banreen cry, "I know what happened, I finally have the answer! We can finally have justice prevail!"_

_Then England was completely enveloped in the darkness and began falling._

* * *

England jolted awake as he came back to his senses, feeling rather dizzy as he tried standing up. America was beside him, supporting him as England groggily tried staying on his two feet.

"Hey, how're you?" America questioned hastily, sounding relieved. England attempted to stand upright but he swayed dizzily. America caught England and steadied him until the dizziness passed.

Once England felt stable on his feet again, he complained quietly, "My head hurts a bit…"

"That's to be expected, I've dug into the deepest part of your mind to get to these memories. But it was worthwhile," Banreen explained, sounding all too gleeful. She was still in the sea, surrounded by the blood. England and America turned to look at her in puzzlement, trying to understand what was going on. Why did the Fuath sound so happy?

"What's there to be happy about Banreen, we've just seen why Bronagh became the dark voice?" America demanded, frowning in confusion. England briefly wondered how America had seen the memory but looking at the pool of blood quickly told him the answer. America had managed to see everything England and Banreen had seen.

The Fuath smirked triumphantly as she snapped her fingers, the red evaporating from the sea instantly. It was as if the pool of blood had never existed. She laughed darkly, "I rejoice because I have finally seen what really happened and I know the details of the event, I can finally end this…"

"End what?" England asked suspiciously, beginning to fear what Banreen was up to. Nothing good it seemed.

America was silent for a moment before pointing at Banreen, declaring accusingly, "You knew that Ireland, Scotland and Australia were down at your den all along, didn't you?"

Banreen snorted as she answered, "Of course I knew, from the very first moment they set foot in our den. They're being tried."

"Under what charge?!" America exclaimed, both he and England paling at the thought that the three other nations had been down there all the time because they were on a trial. England was speechless. What had been happening to the three nations down there when they were put on trial?

"Murder," the Fuath spat, pointing out jeeringly, "Didn't you see the memory? Bronagh and her child were killed by Ireland and Scotland and they have to pay for their actions. We've known all these years that they had killed a Fuath since the smell of a dead Fuath sticks to you and we can smell that… but now, having seen the memory, I can testify who they killed and how."

"But Australia didn't do anything!" England protested, walking towards the Fuath. This didn't make sense, Australia wasn't even alive when all this happened. He was being punished for nothing! America placed a hand on England's shoulder, trying to restrain him from walking closer to Banreen. England looked up at America, confusion and fear in his eyes, silently demanding why America was holding him back.

"He's being tried for trespassing and entering our cave without our prior knowledge and permission. We would charge the same for Scotland and Ireland if their situation wasn't dire enough with the two murders," Banreen explained disdainfully.

"Hold on, but Ireland and Scotland didn't seem to know that the dragon was Bronagh's kid, so that was an accident. And then Bronagh attacked Scotland, that should count as self-defence!" America argued fiercely, placing his other hand on England's other shoulder protectively. England frowned as America tightened his grip on him. This was no time to be protective of England, there were three nations under the sea that desperately needed more help than him! Why couldn't America see this?!

The Fuath's laugh was high and derisive and then she stared at America in disbelief, shouting, "And you think that excuses their actions?! A life is a life and we've lost two thanks to these two nations. We're trying them and they will be found guilty, they will spend a few decades in our den suffering the consequences of killing two of our kind."

"You can't do that!" America yelled, his eyes wide as if he couldn't believe his ears. "They're nations, they're connected to their land and their people… you can't do this!"

"Oh shut up you sentimental fool, it'll only be for a few decades. It's not like we can kill them. And you can't do anything about it, whether you like it or not," Banreen snickered, baring her teeth at America. She started swimming backwards, as if intending to dive and swim away. England shook his shoulders, getting free from the stunned American's grip.

He rushed forward toward the edge of the water, walking into the sea up to his knees, ignoring the waves lapping against his legs. England shouted desperately, "You can't take my brothers and our friend away, surely something else can be negotiated!" When he saw Banreen distance herself even more, England screamed, "I will keep the dark voice and suffer doubly till the end of my existence in exchange for the three nations! I will give myself up if you set the three free!"

Banreen hesitated at that moment, glancing at England briefly before diving into the water. England felt tears forming at the corner of his eyes, his shoulders sinking in defeat. Had he just lost Ireland, Scotland and Australia to the Fuaths thanks to him?

* * *

After a few agonizing minutes, America saw bubbles appearing at the surface of the water.

Banreen resurfaced from the sea, not too far from where England stood. The Fuath immediately stared at England sharply, confusion settling in her eyes as she questioned, "Don't you hate your brothers?"

"How would you know?" America spat back, taking a step forward so that he might be able to grab England and drag him away from the water if the Brit actually went through with his plan. America had been caught completely off-guard by England's willingness to give himself up in favour of releasing the three captive nations. But it was out of the question that America was going to allow England to make this exchange. There had to be another way…

Banreen glanced at America briefly, eyes narrowing. She returned her gaze to England as she explained, "I don't know the details but my kind is very good at picking up the hatred around us. The hatred of nations is very potent and I was under the impression that you hated your brothers."

England was silent for a moment, having clearly shed a few tears and sniffling a little. He seemed unsure on how to respond to the female Fuath. He shook his head vigourously, declaring with a firm voice, "I've never hated my brothers. I may have hated the actions and words they might have used in some situations, but my hatred was never directed at them."

"England, you're seriously not considering handing yourself over just like that," America asked, laughing nervously. "There must be another way, you don't have to sacrifice yourself-"

The Fuath cut the American off with a sly grin towards England, "What if your sacrifice is not enough? Are you worth three nations?"

The smaller nation looked down at his feet, mumbling quietly, "It doesn't matter, we can't measure value like that…," England looked up at Banreen, raising his voice, "All I know is that your kind is keeping three nations captive, two of them my brothers and one a close friend. And I'm here with the spirit of one of the Fuaths within me… I will gladly take my brothers' place and pay double the price. And if I have to suffer for several centuries, then so be it."

America protested as he reached out to grab England's shoulder, "England don't do it!" Before he could lay his hand on England's shoulder, water rose out of the sea in a snake-like manner and wrapped around the waist of the English-speaking nation and lifted him.

Banreen seemed to be controlling the arm of water, pulling England closer to her. America let out an angry shout, "Now hold on a minute, I didn't agree to any of this! England, don't you dare go through with this! Sacrificing yourself isn't going to solve anything, please don't do this-!"

"America!" England yelled, turning his head around to look at the American, his eyes pleading and desperate. "If this is what I have to do to get them back, I will do it."

"Are you certain you're willing to give yourself up for them… even after all the bad blood and past grudges, you're still willing to suffer for their mistakes?" Banreen pressed insistently.

England stared at America for a few seconds longer before he turned to Banreen and nodded solemnly.

The female Fuath stared at England with hard cold eyes, scrutinizing him. Eventually she let out a low huff and she dove back into the sea, the water keeping England in the air suddenly falling back into the sea, dropping England into the water. America's mind went blank with fear as he saw England struggle to keep his head above water. Thankfully England didn't land too far into the sea and America rushed in quickly, diving after the fallen nation. He grabbed England and dragged him out of the sea, England coughing out the seawater he had accidently swallowed.

Once America reached the beach, he dropped down to his knees and wrapped England into a fierce hug, pressing the smaller nation to his chest. He growled lowly, "I'm not letting you go, if they're taking you it will be over my dead body!"

The other nation coughed a bit and struggled briefly, quickly giving up when he realized that America was too strong for him. England turned his head to look at the surface of the water, a heavy sigh escaping him as he said, "It doesn't matter now, clearly my idea didn't work…"

"We don't know that," America snapped, "But if they come back for you, I'm ripping their limbs and jaws off. No one is going to harm you in any way."

"But-," England began to complain before America hushed him firmly.

England glared at America and shouted exasperatedly, "But if I was to take their place, Ireland and Scotland would know what to do to get me back! But with them being down there, we have no idea what to do to get them back! We're useless in this situation, we don't even know half of what my brothers know when dealing with Fuaths!" He pushed against America's chest, demanding to be given some space. America relaxed his grip and allowed England to take a step back from him.

America hadn't actually thought that, the 10-year old England had had a better plan than him. No, he had one as opposed to America having none at all. America shook his head sadly as he replied, "Good point England but there has to be another way. This is too risky, you don't know what to expect. We're not even sure if Scotland and Ireland will be able to help you, you don't think they knew they would walk themselves right into a trial, no?"

England frowned, seeing the logic behind America's answer. He turned around to face the sea, a shiver running down his spine. Whether it was from cold or fear or even both, America didn't know. He was cold himself after all, the chilly air wasn't helping with the wet clothes. However much America wanted to reach out and comfort England, he felt that the smaller nation wanted some space. He didn't want to frustrate England more than he already had. But America was adamant: there was another way to get Ireland, Scotland and Australia back. He had no idea how but it certainly wouldn't involve putting England in harm's way. He wanted to save the three nations just as much as England but they had to find another way.

They waited in a petrified silence for the next few minutes, both nations staring mutely at the water's surface with fear and apprehensiveness. America wondered whether he shouldn't be taking England away from here and calling for help from England's other brothers. They would know more what to do in this situation than either he or England.

But something, his gut feeling, told him to stay. Something was going to happen and no matter how worried America was over England's safety, they had to stay. America began wondering if the damned Fuath knew how to manipulate feelings and was maybe causing America to feel that he had to stay… if that was the case he should really make a grab for England and flee, no matter how bad he felt over leaving the three nations behind-

Both nations stiffened as the water started bubbling, a dark form appearing deep underwater and growing steadily larger as it approached the surface. England held his breath while America felt the overpowering need to pull England away from the edge of the water, a part of him now terrified that the female Fuath was returning to take England with her.

What should he do if she did?

* * *

**A/N:**

*worries* Hope the chapter was good. It was a lot longer but I had to cut off the last part, which will be appearing in the next chapter. So in a way the original ending of this chapter wasn't going to be as mean but you all have understood now that I really like writing cliff-hangers. (Apologies to those who get frustrated because they want to see the next chapter)

Now, I have already hinted at Wales' disapproval of America's and England's relationship in previous chapters, haven't I? Don't think of him too badly, at the origin he just really cares about his brother and wants to protect. Of course that's leading to some hostile reactions towards America, which America doesn't really understand yet. And mind you, the other nations of the family don't particularly agree with Wales' views and make a point of making the Welsh nation hold his tongue if all he wants to do is being sarcastic towards America. These two really need to talk one on one, no?

And Northern Ireland has come out of hiding and is back in the game! :D Yeah, when he is upset with his brothers he will hide... at Isle of Man's house. The anti-social nation understands North's need to be alone and away from his brothers so Northern Ireland is allowed to hide in Mann's house and no one thinks of looking there since they simply assume that Isle of Man's words are good enough. So for now North has a secure hiding place. Hopefully he will be around more next chapter.

Oh, and dark hinting in the next scene with England's brief sickness. Overshadowing~! I left a hint in the last chapter already and I have given you hints here what England might be possibly getting sick of. Not obvious hints, but if you have a sharp eye you'll know what I'm possibly building up to. ;)

Crisp sandwiches are amazing and I have fond memories of them, although it must be almost a decade since I've had one... I don't know why, I just recently started thinking about it again and I remembered, "Oooh that was actually really tasty!"

Now some of the things with the Fuath and the Brollachan is invented. Firstly the plurals are not Fuaths and Brollachans, I simply did this for the simplicity of readers who don't understand Irish. ^^; I don't know if the Fuath feeds on fear and I don't know if the Brollachan feeds on fear. I just know that according to tradition the Brollachan doesn't have any shape and only takes shape of what someone fears when that person is around. But the "myself thyself" is pretty true, don't ask me why though. (quirk of a Gaelic evil water creature) In a way I've kind of expanded on why I know about the Fuath and the Brollachan, such as living in packs.

And we finally know what the dark voice finally was! A female Fuath called Bronagh who unfortunately lost her child when he decided that attacking Ireland and Scotland as a dragon was going to be a good idea. And then Bronagh set out to make the brothers suffer by taking away something precious to them. But alas, now Ireland and Scotland are in a trial and are in danger of being kept captive under the sea for several decades, which is not healthy since a nation can't be separated from their people for so long. Australia is just a victim of circumstance, he didn't do anything to be roped into all this but Fuaths are not known for their kindness.

What will happen next? Hope you enjoyed the chapter and I hope the writing style is still good. Thank you for reading and see you next chapter!


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